


Lionheart

by VVSIGNOFTHECROSS



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-16
Updated: 2017-08-31
Packaged: 2018-10-19 18:12:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 64
Words: 197,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10645302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VVSIGNOFTHECROSS/pseuds/VVSIGNOFTHECROSS
Summary: Eddard Stark is fostered at Casterly Rock, not the Vale.





	1. Lionheart

“You are to go to Casterly Rock, to be fostered with Tywin Lannister, Lord of Casterly Rock, Warden of the West, and Hand of the King. Do you understand?” Lord Rickard asked.

Eddard nodded solemnly. “I understand Father.”

“You are going now, so that you might learn a few things from a man such as Lord Tywin, and to ensure that there are good ties between our two houses. I expect you to be on your best behaviour.” Lord Rickard stated.

“I will Father, I promise.” Eddard replied, with as much seriousness as an eight-year-old could manage.

His father nodded and then said. “You may go.”

Eddard bowed and then hurried out of the solar. The solar was quite an intimidating place and Eddard had only ever been in there once before, when he had been very small, and when Mother had still been alive. He arrived back in his room, and saw Lya sitting on his bed. She looked upset, but then again Lya always looked upset. “Well?” Lya asked. “What did Papa want to see you about?”

Lya was only two years younger than him but she still called Father, Papa, it was something he had never quite understood. “I am to go to Casterly Rock to foster with Lord Tywin.” Eddard replied excitedly, or as excitedly as he could get.

“So you are leaving?” Lya asked, her lower lip turning up as she began to pout.

“Well only for a little bit, and you’ll still have Benjen.” Eddard said quickly, trying to reassure her.

Lya sighed. “It’s not the same, Ben is only a baby, he can’t play the same games as we do, not now anyway. Why do you get to go away, and I don’t? It’s not fair!”

Eddard took a minute to think about that and then said. “Because you will be going away later, to marry, to become someone’s wife. Father just wants to keep you here now so that he won’t miss you so much when you go away.” Lya smiled and they talked some more about the cakes that were being cooked and when Brandon would next come home from Barrowton, perhaps this time Brandon would be interested in what he said, after all it was not every day one of them to go to the Rock.

The next few days passed by in a blur, Eddard spent much of his time reading up on the Rock and the Westerlands, he also spent it packing. There was so much he needed to take with him, books, quills, clothes, all sorts of things. He admitted to himself on his last night that he felt nervous but he was also very excited, the feast was interesting, he was given the chance to drink a cup of wine and he was the talk of the feast, not just Brandon, though of course Brandon entertained with all his stories. Though they were a year apart, one would never think it. Brandon was loud and brash even at nine, whilst Eddard was quiet and sombre.

The day of his departure from Winterfell, he hugged Lya, and Benjen, Brandon and he shook hands, formally, though later Brandon pulled him into a hug. He left Winterfell, the only home he’d ever known and then they left Winterfell. They rode south from Winterfell down the King’s Road stopping at a variety of places, Father came with him as did Martyn Cassel, and Osric who was a friend and a brother. They spent time at Moat Cailin and Eddard marvelled at how the ancient structure could remain so sturdy despite being so old. Father saw him staring at it and laughed. “Moat Cailin is thousands of years old, Eddard. It is one of the oldest structures in the north and the key to defending it from land. One day it might even belong to you.”

Eddard looked at his father surprised. “You would give me Moat Cailin?” No second son had ever been given Moat Cailin since Artos Stark had died. To be given it would be a huge honour.

Father smiled, something Eddard had never see him do since Mother had died. “It would need some repairing, but I do not see why not.” Eddard smiled and then they spent the next two days at Moat Cailin before they travelled southwards, toward the Twins. Lord Walder Frey was a strange man, he was old, older than ever Father, and he was a rude man.

“Ah, Stark, had any more wolves up your end?” Frey had asked Father.

Eddard had not understood what Frey had meant, but clearly Father had, for his mouth tightened and he replied curtly. “No, all the wolves are dead.”

Frey had spat then. “A shame, I had liked your wolf, she was a fine looking one, with a nice arse on her.” The other Freys had laughed at that, and Father had gone white with anger, but he had not said anything. Guests were not allowed to insult their hosts, that was what Mother had always said.

Frey turned to him then and said. “So, you’re the boy going off to foster with Tywin Lannister eh?” Eddard looked at Frey surprised that he knew something such as that, but Father shook his head, and so Eddard merely nodded. Frey spat again. “Well, I am sure you will learn some manners from the Lord of the Rock, a damn sight more than you’d learn in the north. Barbaric place that it is, eh Rickard?”

Father looked as if he wanted to hit Frey, but instead he merely nodded. “Something like that.” The conversation ended, and the feast did some time later. As they were getting ready for bed, Father tucked him and said. “Ignore Walder Frey, Eddard. He is a bitter old man who has never amounted to anything. He will never amount to anything. Never forget who you are.”

Father looked at him expectantly, and he said. “I am a Stark of Winterfell.” His father nodded and kissed his forehead and then walked out and sleep claimed him.

From the Twins, they rode to Seagard, they were greeted by Lord Jason Mallister a man who was young yet old as well, there was no conversation but they got on a ship and set sail, hugging the coast to avoid the Ironborn who seemed to be growing more powerful according to Father. They sailed down the coast and Eddard was sick numerous times, he did not like the sea, and it seemed that it did not like him. Eddard was more than relieved when they docked into Lannisport. It was a great glimmering city at the base of the Rock. There they were greeted by a man who was tall and muscular, for a minute Eddard thought he was the King, but then Father said. “Lord Tywin, a pleasure.”

Tywin Lannister, the Hand of the King, had come to meet him personally at Lannisport? Eddard felt a blush rise on his cheeks, but quickly fought it. He was a Stark, and Starks did not blush. Lord Tywin nodded at Father. “Lord Rickard.” The man then turned and looked at him. “And you must be Eddard.”

“Yes my Lord.” Eddard said, barely loud enough to be heard.

Lord Tywin nodded, and then turned back to Father. “I am sure you have had a long journey, I’ve got horses prepared, your son’s things will be taken up by wagon. Come.” They mounted the horses provided for them, and set off. Father and Lord Tywin in the lead, the second man who Eddard had seen before, brought his horse close to him.

“I’m Gerion by the way. Gerion Lannister, Tywin’s brother.” Gerion Lannister said.

“Nice to meet you.” Eddard said formally. Gerion smiled but said nothing else, they continued their journey up to the Rock. When Eddard saw the great hulking, structure built into the Rock his mouth fell open. It was huge, there was a great golden castle jutting out from the Rock, and then there was the passageway, they entered through the passageway, getting off their horses and entering the castle properly through a pulley system. As they went higher up, Eddard felt his mouth drop further. This place was bigger than Winterfell, and certainly more impressive.

As they got out of the pulleys and out onto the hall properly, Lord Tywin spoke. “Maester Creylen will ensure that your things are kept in their rightful place.” The maester, was young and seemed to have just arrived, a different sort of maester to Walys Flowers back home. Out of nowhere, their luggage appeared and was directed to their rooms. Lord Tywin then introduced them to the remaining people in the hallway. “This is my wife Lady Joanna.” Lady Joanna was beautiful, she had fair hair and green eyes, and was heavily pregnant. “These two are my children, Jaime my heir, and Cersei, my daughter.” They were hardly distinguishable, both with long blonde hair and green eyes and equally cheeky smiles on their faces. Eddard nodded to them all, and then they were led to the great hall for a feast.

During the feast, Eddard was peppered with questions by the twins. “What is the north like?” asked Jaime.

“It’s big, and cold sometimes, but welcoming.” Eddard said.

“What was your journey like?” Cersei asked.

“Long, but interesting.” Eddard replied.

“Did you meet Walder Frey?” Jaime asked.

Eddard remembered the old and brittle man, and nodded. “Yes, he was a terrible old bore.” That drew a laugh from the twins and made him smile.

Eventually though the feast came to an end. They retired for the night, Eddard and Father sharing the same room. Eddard slept peacefully, but in the morning, he was nervous. Father was dressed and ready, and after breakfast pulled him aside. “Remember that you are a Stark, you are here representing us in the Westerlands. Lord Tywin is Hand of the King, if you make a good impression on him, then you are set for life. Do you understand?”

Eddard didn’t really understand but he nodded anyway. “Yes Father.”

His father did something unexpected then and pulled him close for a hug. “I am proud of you, you must always remember that.” Eddard nodded and then his father pulled away and they began the process of saying goodbye formally. Eddard watched as his father rode down the pulley and down toward Lannisport, his throat dry.

Eventually, Lady Joanna spoke to him. “Would you like to see your rooms?”

Eddard nodded and followed her down the hallway and into another set of rooms, there he found himself looking at the room he had seen Jaime in the other day. “You will be sharing with Jaime; I hope you do not mind?”

Eddard shook his head. “I shared a room with my brother, Brandon, in Winterfell.”

Lady Joanna smiled. “Come then, I shall get Jaime, and let you two get to know one another.”

Jaime and he spent the next however long talking about games they played and who their favourite knights were, Eddard found himself growing to like Jaime more and more, even though the boy was only five, and he was eight. Eventually, they were called for dinner, and it was nice, not as nice as the food at Winterfell, but nice nonetheless. After dinner, he settled into bed, and listened as Jaime told him about a game where someone was tagged and then had to find and tag the other people. It sounded fun, and he wanted to tell Lya about it, but then remembered that she was in Winterfell. He felt a pang then, but pushed it down.

The next day, he had lessons. One was with Jaime, and there he showed he knew a lot. After that, the rest of the day he spent his time with Maester Creylen and Damion Lannister, learning more about the Westerlands and about the role of the Kingdoms and the council of the King. It was interesting stuff, and explained in a far better way than what Maester Walys would explain things.

His first week at the Rock flew by, and then the first month did as well, he got used to the meal times, he discovered through exploring with Jaime and Cersei, the best ways to navigate through the tunnels and the passageways, he played with a lion and nearly got a thrashing for doing so. It was fun, it reminded him of being at home with Lya, and it eased his homesickness somewhat.

His first Yule at the Rock was filled with gifts and presents, it was a fun time and he deeply enjoyed it. Lord Tywin who spent most of his time in King’s Landing ensured that he was given money, whilst Lady Joanna gave him a special book about the Kings of the Rock. He thanked them and gave them something he had drawn, it was badly done, but Lady Joanna thanked him.

Then after Yule, Lady Joanna went to the birthing bed, and the castle fell silent.

* * *

 

“He looks funny.” Cersei said, staring at the baby in the cot.

“That’s because he’s a baby, Cersei. Every baby looks funny.” Eddard said.

“I know that, but he looks really funny and ugly too.” Cersei said, grabbing a hold of the baby’s member and twisting.

The baby cried out. Eddard grabbed Cersei’s hand and lifted it off the baby’s member. “Stop it Cersei.”

“Why should I? He hurt Mother, and made it so that she couldn’t get up.” Cersei replied pouting.

Eddard sighed. “Yes, Lady Joanna is still in bed, but she wouldn’t want you to hurt your brother. You are his older sister, you are supposed to protect him, not hurt him.”

Cersei went to protest, but before she could, a voice sounded from behind them. “Eddard is right. Cersei, I am very disappointed in you.”

They all whirred around and saw Lord Tywin standing there in the doorway, his eyes were burning with anger. Usually it was hard to tell what Lord Tywin was thinking, but one look at him now and one could see he was angry. “Cersei, you are to help Maud clean the kitchens for the next month. Now leave.” Cersei kept her mouth shut and walked out, but Eddard saw the glower she sent his way.

Lord Tywin sighed, and Jaime immediately asked. “How is Mama doing, Papa?”

Lord Tywin’s eyes softened as he took in his eldest son and heir. Even to Eddard it was obvious that Lord Tywin loved his eldest son and was immeasurably proud of him. “She is doing better Jaime; she will be able to see you before the week ends.” Jaime cheered with happiness and hugged his father before disappearing, no doubt to tell Cersei the good news.

Eddard remained where he was, waiting for Lord Tywin to speak. He might be young, but Eddard knew when an adult wished to speak with him, and from the way Lord Tywin was standing, Eddard knew the man wanted to speak with him. Eventually the man did so. “I know I have not been here that often, and have not been able to properly teach you, Eddard, but I have heard that you are doing well in your studies, and you are helping with the children. I am much indebted to you for that. And a Lannister always pays his debts.” Eddard did not know what to say to that, so he kept his mouth shut. As he suspected, Lord Tywin continued. “I also thank you for ensuring Tyrion is protected. Cersei is young, but she already has a vicious temper on her. No doubt something, she has gotten from me.”

The Rains of Castamere was a favourite song at feasts here, so Eddard knew better than to contradict Lord Tywin. He simply remained silent and listened as Lord Tywin continued. “I want you to keep an eye out on both Jaime and Tyrion. I know they are both young, and a drain, but I want you to protect them.”

That surprised Eddard, he was but eight namedays old, how was he supposed to protect them, and from what? But he found himself nodding. “I will, my lord I promise.”

Lord Tywin turned away from his second son and placed a hand on Eddard’s shoulder. “Good, I knew I could count on you.” With that Lord Tywin walked out of the nursery, leaving Eddard to stand there nonplussed. He eventually walked out and got back to sparring in the yard with Damion, under the watchful eye of Ser Tygett Lannister, Lord Tywin’s younger brother and a famous knight.

After that day, Eddard kept his eye on Jaime, he watched as the heir to the Rock spent most of his time either sparring with a wooden sword, or with Cersei, or pestering him about the North. There was something about the time Jaime spent with Cersei though, he couldn’t put his finger on it. They were babes, little older than Lya, but there was something.

His nameday celebrations however, force all thoughts of the twins and whatever strangeness they might be getting up to from his mind. There is a great cake, a lion and a wolf on it, and a sword, a small one, but with a silver encrusted gem, in the pommel, and a book about the great chancellors of the Westerlands. A great set of gifts, and he gets letters from Father and Lya, and a present as well, a little handkerchief that Lya had stitched for him with the direwolf on it.

The festivities go on for a very long time, and he eventually finds himself being carried off to bed, by Martyn Cassel, someone he is surprised is still here. As Martyn tucks him into bed, he finds himself sleepily asking. “How are you finding the Rock, Martyn?”

Martyn Cassel is his father’s man through and through, Eddard can see that quite clearly, but he has a good heart as well. Eddard is sure Martyn smiles when he replies. “I am enjoying it well enough my lord. And I know you are as well. Your father is very happy.”

Eddard smiled tiredly. “That is good. Thank you.”

“Happy nameday, my lord.” Martyn said, before he walked out. Eddard fell asleep to the sound of his footsteps on the ground.

He woke the next morning and saw Jaime standing before him dressed in brown, he blinked again and saw that it was not in fact Jaime but…” Cersei, what are you doing?”

“I’ve come to go sparring with you. Wooden swords.” Cersei said as confidently as a six year old could.

“But, you are a girl. And a little girl at that, I won’t spar against you.” Eddard replied confidently.

Cersei smirked, in that way of hers that made him think she was most definitely up to no good. “Well, are you going to fight me, or do I have to get Jaime?”

Eddard looked at her and asked. “Where is Jaime?”

“He is with Father.” Cersei replied.

Eddard sighed and got out of bed. “Fine.”

Cersei bounded away and Eddard found himself wondering what he was getting into. At the practice yard they both took their wooden swords, and Cersei held hers with grace, making him think she’d done this before. As they were about to strike, Lady Joanna entered the courtyard, and stood there watching. Eddard swung and Cersei ducked, and then hit his leg, causing him to grunt slightly. This continued until Lady Joanna called out for them to come for lunch, as they moved to the great hall, Eddard could have sworn he saw Lady Joanna giving Cersei a smile.


	2. Young Lion: Jaime I

****

“Ser Duncan…t…t…the Tall, was a g…g…reat knight.” Jaime read the words, but felt silly, he could not say them properly, Ned could, Ned could read long sentences and could read important things. But Jaime, Jaime couldn’t. “H…e…h…e helped a m…a…id with her problems when Prince Aerion…T…T…a…r…g…aryen went to hurt her.” Jaime looked up from the page and at his mother, Mother looked better now, the baby had taken a lot of energy from her, but now she was better, and she was helping him read again, like she said she would. She smiled at him and nodded for him to go on. “Ser D…u…n…c…a… the Tall hit the Prince, and w…a…s told he would either lose a hand or a limb. But the Ser’s…. sq…q…uire, Egg, protected him and revealed his identity. He…e…agreed to a trial by seven.” Jaime looked up from the page again and asked. “Mama, why did the Targaryens want Ser Duncan’s hand removed? He did nothing wrong.”

Mother looked as if she wasn’t going to respond, sometimes she would say that there were things that he and Cersei should not know, like what the serving maid was doing with uncle Gerion, but sometimes Ned would tell them. Now however, she replied. “Prince Aerion was a Prince of the Blood. It is against the law of the Kingdom to strike a Prince of the Blood. Anyone who does so will lose the limb that did the deed.”

That did not seem fair to Jaime. “But Mama, Ser Duncan was merely protecting the maid, she had done nothing wrong. It was not her fault that Prince Aerion hurt her.”

Mama nodded. “Yes, but continue reading, sweetling. And you will see what happened next.”

Obediently, Jaime did as he was asked. He scrunched his eyes up to get the words to focus and then spoke aloud. “Seven k…n…i…ghts fought on the side of Ser Duncan, and seven k…n…i…ghts fought on the side of Prince Aerion, including them both. They fought one another long and hard, Prince Aerion was knocked off his horse and s…u…r…r..endered. As he gave up, the trial was over.” Jaime looked up at his mother, there was more to the story, but Jaime had read it before, and there was something else he wanted to ask.

Thankfully, Mama knew that as she always did and she took the book from him, marking the page where they had left off and said. “What is it you wished to ask me Jaime?”

Jaime fidgeted a little, he wasn’t sure how to ask Mama what he wanted to know, but he knew that he had to ask, otherwise it would eat at him. He took a quick breath and then asked. “Did baby Tyrion hurt you Mama?”

Mama looked surprised, her eyes widened, but then they went back to normal and she sighed, and pulled him close. He snuggled into her and sighed contentedly, he’d missed doing this. Mama ran her hand through his hair, the way he liked and then she said. “No, Jaime, baby Tyrion did not hurt me. But giving birth to him was painful.”

“What do you mean, Mama? If he did not hurt you, how could giving birth to him be painful?” Jaime asked confused.

Mama laughed softly. “Oh, because when a lady gives birth she has to exert a lot of effort and energy.”

“Like when practising at swords?” Jaime asked enthusiastically.

Mama laughed again and ruffled his hair. “Yes, like practising at swords I suppose. That is all it was. Tyrion did not hurt me, but giving birth to him did. But I am better now.”

Jaime nodded, then remembered something Cersei had said. “You promise? You’re not going anywhere?”

Mama pulled him closer and whispered into his hair. “I promise I’m not going anywhere.”

Jaime smiled then and asked. “Can I go and play with Ned now?”

“If he is not busy at his lessons, then yes.” Mama replied.

“Thank you, Mama.” Jaime replied, he kissed Mama’s cheek and then ran off, through the corridors, passed the guards, and uncle Kevan who looked concerned with something, and down the stairs, through the Hall of a Thousand Lights, and then into his and Ned’s room. Ned was reading something, Ned was always reading something, but he looked up when Jaime entered.

“Finished for the day then?” Ned asked, his voice sounding funny, Ned had started trying to sound older than he was, it had started after he had gotten a letter from Winterfell, from his older brother. Jaime could not imagine someone being older than Ned, Ned seemed so old himself. Even though he was only a few years older than Jaime.

Jaime nodded. “Yes, Mama says we can go and play, if you’re not doing anything!” Jaime said quickly, he hoped that Ned would say yes, he didn’t want to play with Cersei now, not when Ned was there to play with and to mock fight with.

Ned put his book down and smiled. “I suppose we might as well. Where are, we going today, young Ser?”

“To the Hall of Thousand Lights!” Jaime declared and then he set off, knowing that Ned would follow him. He ran up the stairs, and got to the door. The Hall was old, Mama and Papa always said so, as did Uncle Gerion, very, very old, from before the conquest. Jaime stood there, and listened as Ned’s steady footfalls came up behind him. Jaime looked behind him and asked. “Will you open the door?” He couldn’t reach the handle, not yet anyway.

Ned smiled. “Of course.” Jaime watched as Ned put his hand on the door handle and turned it. The door opened, and Jaime gazed in awe at the sight before him. He looked at Ned and saw that Ned’s jaw had dropped as well. “Come on, let’s go in.” Jaime ran into the hall, Ned followed.

“Tell me about the hall, Ned!” Jaime pleaded.

“You already know about the hall.” Ned replied.

“But, you tell the story so well!” Jaime replied.

Ned rolled his eyes and said. “Very well then. I’ll tell the story.”

“Yay!” Jaime replied.

Ned started the story, which they had both heard before, but now standing in the Hall of a Thousand lights it was something else. Jaime listened with rapt attention as Ned spoke. “The Hall of A Thousand Lights, so called for the lights shaped like lions within it, was built during the reign of King Lancel Lannister, the first King Lancel, he built the hall to celebrate the birth of his eldest son and heir Jaime.”

“Like me!” Jaime replied eagerly.

Ned smiled. “Like you.” Ned stopped for a moment and then continued. “The Hall took three years to build, and the lights were added right at the very end. The lights are made from gold and silver, items found in plentiful quantities within the Rock and in the Westerlands. The Hall was made in such a way that even when the lights are not lit, they can appear as if they are. This was done to create the image of grandeur and propriety that befit a King of the Rock.”

“What did Prince Jaime, make of the Hall?” Jaime asked eagerly. The thought that his namesake had been a Prince appealed to him, it sounded like something from a song.

“Prince Jaime grew up loving the Hall, he felt that it was very impressive, and he would often play games in the Hall, with his brothers and sisters.” Ned replied.

“What games would they play, Ned?” Jaime asked curiously.

Ned stopped talking, and Jaime thought he might have asked the wrong question, but then Ned lunged toward him and grabbed him, and started tickling him. Jaime started giggling. “Games like this.”

“Ned…Ned… Ned!” Jaime giggled, eventually Ned put him down on the ground and Jaime caught his breath back. He waited for a moment and then touched Ned’s arm and said. “Tag, you’re it!”

He ran as quickly as his legs would carry him through the passageway to the right of the hall, Ned on his heels. He ran down the passageway, through the tunnel, and out onto the other side. He kept going, down a flight of stairs, with Ned chasing after him, he jumped over a bench and then ran up another flight of stairs, and when he came to a statute, he hid behind it. Ned appeared then, panting slightly, Jaime tried to hide his breathing, but he couldn’t. Ned called out. “Jaime, where are you?”

Jaime kept quiet, and listened as Ned walked passed where he was hiding, Ned’s footsteps disappeared after a while, and Jaime grew worried, had Ned stopped playing the game? He had done something to offend Ned? Jaime snuck out from where he was hiding and moved to where he had last heard Ned, he kept walking and then called out. “Ned?” There was no response, so he kept moving, he eventually found himself standing in front of a silver lion statute. “Ned?” he called out again, his voice quavering slightly.

As if from nowhere, he felt a pair of arms around him and then he heard Ned say. “Got you!”

“Hey! No fair!” Jaime said as he squirmed slightly.

Ned chuckled and then put him down on the ground. “Come on, we’re going to be late for dinner.” Together they walked back the way they came, through the passageway, down the stairs, up another flight of stairs, through a hall decked with golden lions and then through the doorway that led them to the great hall.

Mama was there waiting for them. “And where have you two been?” She asked disapprovingly.

“We were playing, Mama!” Jaime replied delightedly. “We went to the Hall of a Thousand Lights.”

Mama shared a look with uncle Gerion, that Jaime did not understand, but he did not bring that up, instead he sat down at the head of the table as heir to the Rock, and Lord of the Rock, in Papa’s absence, Mama sat to his right and Ned to his left. Cersei was to Mama’s right, and uncle Kevan was to Ned’s right. There was little talking as they began dinner, roasted potatoes and chicken, it tasted delicious, and Jaime ate it all very quickly, he did not even realise he was so hungry until his entire plate was empty. Distantly, he heard Mama and uncle Kevan talking about something to do with food stores, and winter, and he heard uncle Gerion talking to uncle Tygett about swords. Jaime wanted a new sword, Papa had said that if he did well in his studies, he would get a new wooden sword. The thought of getting a new wooden sword was very exciting, especially if it meant more time spent sparring with Ned and Adam and Jory. Eventually dinner ended and Jaime walked out of the great hall, accompanied by Mama and Uncle Kevan and Ned, and Cersei.

As they walked back to his and Ned’s rooms, he heard Cersei say. “Come to my room tonight, Jaime, we can sleep over!”

Jaime felt a momentary urge to say yes, but then he shook his head. “I can’t. Ned says he’s going to tell me about Winterfell tonight.” The thought of hearing more about Ned’s home was a very good prospect for Jaime. He snuck a glance at Cersei, and saw that her lower lip was raised in a pout. He felt a stirring of guilt, and then pushed it down.

“You always want to spend time with Ned, you never want to spend time with me anymore!” Cersei said. “Why?”

Before Jaime could reply, they arrived at his and Ned’s room, he said goodnight to Uncle Kevan and to Cersei, and kissed Mama on the cheek before he got into his and Ned’s room. He got changed and then lay down on bed, he closed his eyes momentarily, and then before he knew it, there were birds chirping and the sun was hitting his face. He shot up. “Ned!” He called out.

“Huh? What?” Ned asked sleepily from the other bed.

“I fell asleep!” Jaime replied, his voice quavering. He’d so wanted to hear that story.

“It’s alright, go back to bed.” Ned replied, and before Jaime could say anything else, Ned’s snores filled the room.

Jaime falls back onto the sheets and tries to sleep, he closes his eyes, but sleep will not come to him, instead he tosses and turns, before eventually deciding that he shouldn’t bother. He gets up, and moves to the wash room, where he strips and takes the pail of water, and pours it into the tub. He had seen Gertrude one of the maids do this a thousand times before, it couldn’t be that hard. He puts a finger into the water, and finds that it is cold. That does not bother him though. The Dragonknight used to bathe in cold water every morning, Ned had read to him and so he decides he will be like the Dragonknight. He gets into the tub, and yelps, the water is very cold. But he fights off the cold and starts rubbing soap over his body. He then grabs some of the water and splashes it on his face and body. That done, he looks for a towel and finds that there is none. He looks around helplessly, wondering what to do, when the door opens and Ned is stood there with a towel, he throws the towel to him and Jaime catches it. “Thank you!” Jaime replied eagerly. He sees Ned merely grin before disappearing.

He stands up in the tub, and gets dries himself, when that is done, he moves from the bathroom with the towel wrapped around himself. He moves to his chest of drawers, where he pulls out a shirt, a red one of course, and a pair of breeches. He also pulls out some drawers to wear under his breeches. He puts them on with the towel guarding him. That done, he shakes Ned awake. Ned groggily gets up and goes to the bathroom, Jaime meanwhile uses a brush to clean his teeth, spitting into the tub at the foot of his bed. By the time he has done that, Ned is cleaned and dressed. “Ready to get some breakfast?” Ned asked.

“Yes!” Jaime replied eagerly. Ned grinned and together they walked out of the room and to the Great Hall, they walked in silence, mainly because Jaime was still disappointed that he had missed the chance to hear about Winterfell.

Breakfast was bacon and egg, it was a nice meal but throughout it all Jaime could not help but think he had missed a chance to hear about another place, another Kingdom entirely. He would not make a very good lord, if he could not stay awake for long enough to hear about another place. Ned nudged him then and whispered. “Do you want to hear about Winterfell?” Excited, Jaime nodded enthusiastically.

Ned smiled, and replied. “Well, what do you want to know?”

“Everything!” Jaime said, smiling.

Ned smiled. “Well, Winterfell is big, not as big as the Rock, but big enough. It has four or five small castles within it as well as the walls of the bigger castle. It has hot springs underneath it that keep the castle warm within the winter. And there are grey buildings within the castle that are as old as some of the places we saw in the Riverlands.”

“Really?” Jaime asked amazed.

“Oh yes.” Ned replied smiling.

“How do you keep everything working properly, if everything is so old?” Cersei asked then.

Ned grinned. “With a little magic and a little love, and a lot of hard work.”

Cersei snorted, but Jaime clapped he was very happy about that. “And what about your family? What are they like?”

At this, Ned stopped smiling and became grim. “I…I’m sorry.” Jaime said instantly, he didn’t want to make Ned sad.

Ned shook his head. “It’s okay.” Ned took his hand squeezed softly. “My father is a fearsome man, like a warrior from some song. Brandon, my brother reminds me a lot of you, Jaime. And Lyanna is free and spirited. Benjen is just a babe.”

Jaime was amazed by that. “I remind you of your brother, Brandon?” Ned rarely spoke of his brother, but when he did it was usually with that strange tone of voice, that Mama said meant someone admired you.

Ned ruffled his hair. “Yes. You’ve got the same fierceness to you.”

Jaime puffed up with pride then. “Thank you, for telling me about Winterfell.”

Ned smiled, and then Mama spoke to them. “Now, children, I am sure you are aware that your father is to be coming to Casterly Rock within the next few days. He is coming to the Rock because some important people from Dorne are coming. Mainly, Princess Loreza of Dorne, and her son Prince Oberyn and her daughter Princess Elia.”

“From Dorne? Wow!” Jaime exclaimed.

Mama smiled at him and then said. “Now, I have known Princess Loreza for many years, we were friends when I was at King’s Landing, and as such, I want you to be on your best behaviour when she and her children are here. Her children are a few years older than you all, but that does not mean that you cannot be friends.” Mama smiled at the three of them, and Jaime beamed back.

“Does that mean I have another sparring partner, Mama?” Jaime asked.

Mama smiled. “I am sure something could be arranged.”

Jaime cheered. “Thank you Mama.”

Breakfast ended and Jaime spent the rest of the day eagerly waiting for the moment when Papa would arrive back home and when the Martells would come. He couldn’t wait to show them what he had learned. He was so excited that he even beat Jory during their mock fight, and that hadn’t happened before. It was so exciting, he didn’t even mind when Cersei threw a huff and went off to do whatever it was a girl did.

 

 


	3. Glittering Seas: Ned II

Ned shifted slightly, the doublet he was wearing itched. It was Stark grey, but with a dashing of red there as well, to show his position as a ward of the House Lannister. Jaime was stood next to him, fidgeting as he was wont to do, Ned had to keep his hands on his foster brother’s shoulders to prevent him running away. Cersei looked like a right little lady, with her hair braided and her dress red and golden. Lady Joanna looked stunning, in red and gold with her hair braided as well. Lord Tywin looked imperious, though there was a hint of tiredness in his eyes. Ned focused back on the pier where their guests were now disembarking. First to come into view was a lady who was tall and proud, she had long dark hair, and tanned skin. She looked very exotic to Ned, she was followed by a girl with long raven hair and dark skin as well, and then a boy with short hair and what seemed to be some stubble, he reminded Ned at first of Brandon.

The lady walked forwards and curtseyed to Lord Tywin who bowed. “Princess Loreza, it is an honour to see you again.” Lord Tywin said formally.

The lady with the dark hair and tanned skin nodded and replied. “As it is an honour to meet you again, Lord Tywin.” Ned watched as both adults fell silent and then Princess Loreza turned to Lady Joanna and smiled. “Joanna, it is good to see you again. You look beautiful as always.”

Ned watched as Lady Joanna smiled and kissed Princess Loreza’s cheeks. “You always were a flatterer Loreza.” The two women laughed and then, Lady Joanna linked her arm with Princess Loreza and walked down toward them.

Seeing that they were coming towards them, Ned nudged Jaime to get him to stop fidgeting and looked to Cersei who flashed him a smirk. He grinned back and then straightened for Lady Joanna and Princess Loreza were there before him and Jaime. Jaime moved forward as they had practised and bowed before the Princess. “This is our son, Jaime.”

Princess Loreza smiled and said. “My, you are a handsome fellow. You remind me of your father at your age.” Ned saw Jaime’s shoulders straighten with pride at the compliment.

They then moved to Cersei who curtseyed. “This is our daughter, Cersei.”

Princess Loreza was silent, her mouth pursed, and for a horrible moment Ned feared the Princess was going to say something mean, and then she spoke. “You look beautiful child.” Cersei beamed at her, and Ned breathed easier.

There was a moment of silence and then Lady Joanna moved toward Ned, Ned bowed his head before Lady Joanna and Princess Loreza, and listened as Lady Joanna introduced him. “This is our ward, Eddard Stark, second born son of Lord Rickard Stark.”

“You look much like your father, Eddard.” Princess Loreza said.

Ned was surprised by this, he had always been told he looked more like his great uncle Brandon than his father, but he accepted the compliment all the same with a whispered. “Thank you, Princess.”

Princess Loreza smiled, then she turned away from him and beckoned to the two children who had come out of the ship with her. She placed her hands on the boy, who had short hair, and a trace of stubble, the way he held himself reminded Ned of Brandon as well. “This is my son Oberyn.” Prince Oberyn bowed his head but said nothing. Princess Loreza then nodded to her daughter. Ned felt his breath catch as he looked at her, she was much more beautiful up close. With raven hair, and eyes as green as gems. She smiled at him and he blushed. “This is my daughter Elia.”

Ned could not take his eyes off of Princess Elia, but he heard Lord Tywin say. “Welcome all to Casterly Rock and Lannisport. I am sure you are tired. Come to the castle and refresh yourselves before the evening entertainment.” With that they were all mounting their horses and riding off to the Rock, though Ned stayed with Jaime, to make sure his foster brother didn’t ride his pony off into the town as he had done on the way down. As they rode, he listened to Prince Oberyn making japes with Ser Gerion about something or the other, they were only a year apart in age, Ned realised belatedly, he had been studying the books of family history last night to make sure he knew all he could about the Martells.

He occasionally chanced a glance at Princess Elia, but she was not looking at him, instead she had her eyes on her mother and Lady Joanna listening intently to whatever it was the two ladies were discussing. A tug on his sleeve interrupted his thinking. He turned and saw Jaime looking at him. “When do you think I could ask Prince Oberyn to spar with me?”

Ned laughed softly. “Tomorrow I think, Jaime. He needs some time to rest and prepare for the feast this evening.”

Jaime raised his lower lip. “But Mama said!”

Ned stared at his foster brother and waited until his lower lip was back to normal before replying. “Come now, Jaime, we both know that it would not be a fair fight if Prince Oberyn fought you now. You would win without any trouble. We want a challenge, don’t we?”

Jaime nodded his head excitedly. “Yes! I’ll wait till tomorrow then, Ned.” Jaime fell silent then and they continued back to the Rock in silence. Ned still could not get over how they got into the Rock itself. Through the cavernous tunnel, and then up the pulley, the horses were left on the ground, being brought up later on. Ned spent the journey in Princess Elia’s company and though he did not say anything, he listened as she spoke in response to Lady Joanna’s enquiries.  They got off and then made their way to their respective rooms. Jaime did not however, follow Ned, as the heir to the Rock it was his duty to show the guests to their rooms with his mother and father.

Ned found himself sitting on his bed, unsure of what to wear. He was not quite sure why this was such a problem for him. It was not as if he no clothes to wear, he had a fair few, some brought down from Winterfell, others were gifts as presents from his foster family, and others were things he had bought since being here. Yet most of them were grey or dark brown, to reflect his northern roots. He could not wear them when he would be sitting with many who were dressed in gold, and the sun and spear of House Martell. He ran a hand through his hair, eventually he decided that he would have a bath and then he would decide what to wear.

He summoned the servants and watched as they filled the tub with hot water, he liked it piping hot, but he knew that when Jaime returned if he wanted to have a bath he would have a bath; therefore, the water was not too hot. Once the tub was filled, he stripped out of his clothes and planted himself in.  He closed his eyes and allowed the warmth of the water to envelop him. After a moment, he opened his eyes and took the soap, and began washing himself, pouring the water over his head and his body. When he felt, he had spent enough time in the bath, he stood up and took a towel, wrapped it around his body and got out. When he ventured back into the room, he saw Jaime already dressed in a red and gold doublet, sitting oddly still.

Ned smiled. “You look nice.” He saw the book in Jaime’s hands and asked. “What are you reading?”

Jaime beamed at him. “A book about Ser Duncan the Tall. Mama says that the more I read, the more I will understand Ser Duncan.”

Because Jaime seemed to idolise the famed knight, Ned did not think that that was bad advice. He nodded, left Jaime to his reading and got changed. This time he wore a grey doublet, with speckles of gold on it- a gift from Lord Tywin- and wore dark breeches. He was representing his house, and his foster family. As Jaime was still reading his book, Ned decided to pick up his own book. He looked at the cover ‘The Tale of the Dark Practises in The Court of Aegon The Fourth.’ It was a fascinating book, and one that gave him a rough idea of how to make his plea to accompany Lord Tywin to court, the next time the lord went to King’s Landing. The minutes seemed to pass by, for before he knew it, there was a knock on the door and a servant was asking them to make their way over to the Grand Hall.

Both Ned and Jaime put down their books, and stood up. Ned grinned at Jaime and together they walked out of their room and toward the Grand Hall. The Grand Hall was in the older part of the Rock, built by the earliest Casterlys it was where the Lion Throne was, and was only used on important occasions. That they were to be feasting there, to Ned, clearly showed just how much value was being placed on the Martells visit. As they got to the entrance, Ned felt his breath catch, standing next to Princess Elia was a maiden he had never seen before. She too had dark hair, but she had the most haunting violet eyes, and when she smiled, Ned swore his heart was going to collapse, it was beating so fast. He snapped out of it when he realised that he was to accompany her into the hall. As he took her arm, she leaned in. “My name’s Ashara. What’s yours?”

“N…N…e…d.” he managed to stammer out, feeling like a fool.

“You’re from the north, aren’t you?” Ashara asked.

“Yes, I am.” He replied carefully.

“What’s it like there?” She asked.

“It’s big, and very nice.” He said, not really sure what else to say.

Ashara fell silent then and they walked into the hall. Ned felt his mouth fall open as he gazed at the Grand Hall. It was big and decked in gold, with red and more gold across the ceiling and the floor and the walls. And there in the middle of it all was the Lion Throne. Intricately carved with gilded lions, crimson and golden, it stood like a jewel in the centre of a crown. Ned gazed at it, and felt a strange longing in him.

They moved forward and he chanced a glance at Ashara, she looked just as impressed as him. She was seated to his right, whilst her brother, or someone he thought was her brother was seated to his left. The hall fell silent when Lord Tywin stood up and spoke. “My lords and ladies, my esteemed guests, it is my honour to welcome you all to Casterly Rock. I hope that we might have a fine feast, and that you have a fine stay here.” Lord Tywin raised his cup and said. “To us all, and to friendship.” The toast was echoed and Ned had a sip of his wine and grimaced.

Lord Tywin sat down and the conversation started up again. Ashara’s brother, with his silver hair and similar nose turned to him and said. “You’re Lord Rickard’s son?”

“Yes. Who are you?” Ned replied simply.

“I met your father when I was in King’s Landing once. My name is Arthur, I am Ashara’s brother.” Arthur replied.

“Really?” Ned asked surprised, he knew his father had been to King’s Landing, but Ned thought that had been before he had been born, certainly before Brandon was alive.

“Yeah, this was during the reign of King Jaehaerys. I was only three, but he left a distinct impression on me.” Arthur said.

Ned wanted to ask Arthur how his father had left such an impression on him, but before he could, Ashara leaned across him and said. “Arthur, you know Oberyn said something about Eddard here being better than you at swords.”

Ned was about to protest, when he saw Gerion grinning at him. Of course, it would be Gerion who would say that. Arthur looked at him intrigued. “What’s your favourite move then?”

Ned was confused and then he saw Gerion mouth something that seemed a lot like wolf. “The wolf.” He said instantly, though he was sure that was not actually a move.

To his surprise, Arthur nodded. “I can see that.”

Ashara grinned at him and Ned wondered how old she actually was, she didn’t seem that much older than him. “So, what’s it like being here? Is it different to the north?”

Cautiously, Ned replied. “In some ways yes, in others not so much.”

“Oh? How is it different?” Ashara asked.

Ned was aware of some of the courtiers now listening and he felt quite uncomfortable. He looked to the main part of the head table, and was relieved to see Lord Tywin and Lady Joanna still engaged in a lively discussion with Princess Loreza, whilst Jaime and Cersei were being regaled by Prince Oberyn. He took a breath, and then said. “It’s warmer.”

Ashara laughed, and Ned felt something odd in his stomach, whilst he saw Arthur grin. “Ah, that’s good.”

When he saw members of the court turn their attention back to their food, Ned breathed a silent breath of relief. He then asked. “So, why are you with the Princess and her children, if do you not mind me asking?”

Here there was silence, and Ned thought he might’ve asked the wrong question, as he went to apologise, Arthur spoke. “We are companions to the Prince and Princess. I serve as Prince Alor, that’s Princess Loreza’s husband’s squire. And Ashara is a lady in waiting to Princess Elia.” Ned nodded, looking at the lithe man who had purple eyes sat next to Lady Joanna.

“And what are they like?” Ned asked, he might be young but he knew roughly why Princess Loreza was here with her husband and son and daughter.

“Prince Alor is a fighter, and a tough man. No different to what you’d expect of a grandson of King Maekar. Princess Loreza is smart and kind. And Oberyn is a rascal, whilst Elia is sweet.” Arthur said, something like fondness in his voice.

Ashara looked as if she were going to say something, but then someone spoke. “My Lords and Ladies, the first course has been served and eaten, now please prepare for the second course.”

Ned licked his lips, the second course was going to be a leg of lamb with roast potatoes and gravy, his favourite. Ashara saw him lick his lips and she chuckled. “Do you like lamb then?”

Ned blushed slightly and nodded. “I do.” He always had, it was his mother’s favourite dish as well, from what he could remember, and she had always cooked it when they had had it at Winterfell, one time he had helped her make it. As the plates were put before them, conversation between the three of them stopped for a time. Ned ate with a ravenous hunger, he truly felt as if he could empty the whole larder in the Rock, which surprised him. Eventually he stopped eating and sighed with contentment. Desert came next, and with it, Ned felt a slight sense of nervousness. There would be dancing next, and he was not that good a dancer, at least the time he had tried to dance before. He finished desert, and listened as the minstrels began to play a slow and steady tune, he watched as Lord Tywin and Princess Loreza led others onto the dancefloor, Lord Tywin was a surprisingly good dancer, they were followed by Prince Alor and Lady Joanna. Jaime took Princess Elia out and she laughed as Jaime spun her around. Cersei was led by Prince Oberyn and looked surprisingly happy. Arthur took some Lannister or the other out to dance, and Ned remained sitting. He watched with a slight pang of jealousy as Jory asked Ashara to dance with him. He watched and tried to bury his resentment. He was not a dancer, Mother had said she would teach him after she had given birth, but then she had died. And Father did not see the point in dancing. He remained where he was, sat at the table watching everyone else dance, fighting the urge to cry.

Ned remained where he was for a long time, and when he felt the chair next to him move, he turned, and was surprised to find himself looking at Ser Tygett, Lord Tywin’s second brother did not normally spend much time at the Rock. The man was very silent and then said. “You don’t have to remain here if you do not want to.”

Ned was surprised by this, usually Ser Tygett was a stickler for rules and procedure, and procedure stated that he remain in the grand hall until everyone had finished dancing. “Are you sure, Ser?” he asked.

Ser Tygett nodded. “I know you do not like dancing, Ned, you do not need to remain here if you do not want to. I will tell Tywin you felt ill. Go, go and read your books, enjoy the rest of your night.” With that Ser Tygett got up and left him. Ned remained where he was for a moment and then slowly got up, he looked once more at the hall, Elia and Ashara were dancing with one another, he felt a small pang of jealousy, and then he moved out of the hall.

As he walked through the corridors, Ned could not help it, he found himself thinking of home, of listening to Father give them all a lecture about the pack and the importance of family. He found himself thinking of Mother and her laughter, and Father smiling. He remembered Lya, and her running through the halls of Winterfell, like the wind. Benjen was still small, and Brandon, well Ned and Brandon had never really gotten on. He pushed the thought from his mind, it would do him no good to think on it now. He walked passed the door to the Hall of Golden Teeth, and stopped when he heard voices.

“The King is going to name Tygett Lannister to the Kingsguard, I heard it from Ser Willam Darry himself.” One voice said.

“Nonsense, Aerys would choose someone else for the Kingsguard. Not a Lannister, never a Lannister.” Another voice replied, this one sounding female.

“Well, whatever happens, we have to be there, for Tywin. He is going to need our help.” The first voice said.

“Of course.” The second voice replied.

Ned knew there was more that would be said, but he moved away from there as quickly as he could, he all but ran through the corridors, before throwing himself onto his bed. He closed his eyes and thought of Ashara Dayne and her laugh.

 


	4. Sparring Boy: Jaime II

Jaime woke up the minute he felt the light hit him. He shot up in bed, and blinked rapidly. Ned had left the feast early yesterday, Jaime had been allowed to stay far past his bed time, he remembered falling asleep in Papa’s arms, Papa must have put him in bed. He looked across the room at Ned who was still fast asleep. Jaime wanted to ask his brother what had made him leave, but he knew that perhaps it was not, what was the word Mama used? Polite to ask. If Ned wanted to tell him, he would. Slowly, Jaime got up and moved to the room where the bath was. The servants had already filled the tub with hot water, and they were there waiting for him as he removed his sleeping clothes and placed himself in the tub. He grabbed the soap and washed himself, as he did so, he wondered whether Princess Elia would want to dance with him at the evening meal tonight. To have an actual Prince and Princess in Casterly Rock, was very exciting. That Princess Loreza was friends with Mama was something that Jaime still found incredible. He could not imagine being friends with an actual Princess!

Jaime placed the soap back to where it was supposed to be, and stood up. A towel was handed to him and he cleaned himself, before wrapping the towel around his body and stepping out of the tub. As he walked back into his and Ned’s room, he saw that Ned was awake and sat up in bed. “Ned!” Jaime called out excitedly. His brother smiled. “We’re going to be sparring with Prince Oberyn and Arthur today!” That was what Prince Oberyn had said yesterday, and Jaime was really looking forward to it. To fight a prince, now that would be something!

“I know. Get ready and then we can head to the great hall for breakfast.” Ned said, as he got up and moved to the room with the tub.

Jaime nodded and moved toward his own cupboard-that was what Mama said it was called, it was a funny name- and he pulled out the clothes Mama had told him to wear today. A red doublet with golden cuffs, and brown breeches. He took off his towel and put on his under pants and then the breeches and the double. He then put on his socks, he liked his socks they had lions on them, but not golden lions-everything else in the Rock was golden, it got boring after a while- these lions were grey, like the direwolf of House Stark, Ned had smiled when he had seen them. Jaime liked seeing Ned smile, his brother never usually smiled, but when he did Jaime felt as if everything would be okay.

By the time he had finished putting on his clothes, Ned was out of the tub and was changing himself. As he did so, Jaime asked. “Do you think Prince Oberyn fights with a spear or a sword?”

That had been something that had been itching at him yesterday, Cersei had mentioned that Dornishmen fought with odd weapons, and Uncle Gerion had not said she was wrong and of course if uncle Gerion said Cersei was right, perhaps she was actually right? Ned himself merely laughed. “Maybe we will find out today. Come now let us head to breakfast.” Jaime nodded and together they walked out of their room and out into the hall.

The hall showed no signs of yesterday’s entertainment. Jaime was amazed. He had thought it would be dirty and filled with plates and cups, but there was no sign of any sort of even happening. The hall was gleaming and clean. They walked through the hall, through the doors of gilded gold, and through another set of doors with lions as guards. Eventually they came to the Great Hall, where they found Uncle Tygett and Uncle Martyn sat discussing something. Martyn nodded to Ned as they sat down, and Jaime saw that Ned’s man-whose name Jaime could never remember- had sat down behind them. Jaime grabbed a roll of bread and began digging into breakfast. Bread and eggs, Mama must have told the cooks to make this for them, for usually it was porridge or some such. Jaime was only vaguely listening to Uncle Tygett and Uncle Martyn’s conversation, something to do with the size of swords, when he felt the bench move. He turned and saw Prince Oberyn sat next to him. Prince Oberyn smiled at Jaime, and he felt a little flutter in his stomach. A Prince had actually smiled at him!

Prince Oberyn grabbed two loaves of bread and then spoke. “Are you ready for our sparring session, my lord?”

Jaime thought that Prince Oberyn was speaking to him, but instead, he saw that the Prince was speaking to Uncle Gerion who had appeared suddenly. Uncle Gerion had a cocky smile on his face. “Of course, my Prince. I would not wish to miss it for anything.”

Jaime wanted to protest, Prince Oberyn had said that they would fight, not him and Uncle Gerion. But then he supposed it was only fair. He continued eating, listening as Uncle Gerion and Prince Oberyn exchanged jokes about something or the other. Uncle Tygett had gotten up and gone somewhere else. But Martyn Cassel remained sitting, eating and talking about something to do with the north with Ned. Jaime kept eating, he felt oddly hungry this morning. Once he had finished his fourth helping of bread and bacon, he pushed his plate away from himself and sighed contently. Prince Oberyn and Uncle Gerion got up then and walked toward the training yard, Jaime got up and followed them, Ned and Martyn Cassel accompanying them.

As they walked, Jaime turned to Ned and asked. “Who do you think will win?”

Ned was silent for a moment and then said. “I think Ser Gerion will win. But I have not seen Prince Oberyn fight, therefore I do not have complete information to work with.”

“Uncle Gerion is the best fighter in the Westerlands. I think he will win.” Jaime said confidently.

They made their way to the training yard, and Jaime watched with awe as the squires and knights who were sparring stopped what they were doing and moved to the side. The power that a Prince commanded was impressive. Prince Oberyn looked truly dashing in a orange doublet with his sword in hand. Uncle Gerion wore red and gold, as befit a Lannister and he looked confident. Jaime noticed he was wielding a different sword to the one he had used to fight Ser Roland Crakehall a few days ago. That was interesting. The two men bowed to one another and then the fight began.

Jaime watched with baited breath as Uncle Gerion and Prince Oberyn circled one another, neither man danced out to make the first strike, to Jaime it looked like a dance. He chanced a glance at Ned and saw that Ned was watching just as eagerly as he was. Jaime turned back to watch the fight and saw that in the time he’d not been looking, Prince Oberyn had lunged forward and Uncle Gerion had smacked his sword away. But Prince Oberyn was not one to take it lying down, he moved quickly and soon enough Uncle Gerion was on the back foot, having to block one blow after another. Prince Oberyn was quick, very quick, but Uncle Gerion was smart and fast as well.

Every time Prince Oberyn moved, Uncle Gerion moved as well, they were like two dancers on a string, moving in time with one another. It was fascinating to watch. Prince Oberyn was very quick, and obviously very good with his feet placement. Jaime knew from what he had been taught that you needed to keep moving to stand a chance against an older and more experienced opponent.  They danced, and Jaime soon lost sight of them, they became blurs, moving as quickly as the sun and the stars and the rain. It was too much for him, one moment they were fighting, the next Uncle Gerion had his sword against Prince Oberyn’s throat.

Prince Oberyn grinned as did Uncle Gerion, they lowered their weapons and shook hands. Jaime joined in on the cheering, though he wished he could have seen more of the fight itself. He was surprised when Uncle Gerion spoke. “Who wishes to fight next?” Arthur Dayne, dressed in purple and silver of his house stepped forward, and surprisingly so did Ned.

“Very well, pick your weapon and prepare to fight one another.” Uncle Gerion said. Both picked out wooden swords and Jaime waited to see how this fight would progress.

Ned made the first move, he jabbed forward, Arthur blocked. Arthur pushed forward, and Ned held his ground. Jaime watched enthralled as Arthur seemed to keep Ned pinned to where he was, Ned seemed to be straining. “He needs to move more.” Jaime jumped a little at the sound of Uncle Tygett’s voice next to him. Jaime raised an eyebrow and Uncle Tygett continued. “Unless Ned moves out, he’s going to be stuck and have nowhere to go.”

As if he’d heard Uncle Tygett, Ned danced backwards, catching Arthur off guard. What followed was an impressive sight. There were ducks, weaves, dodges and blows exchanged. Arthur and Ned were evenly matched, something Jaime had always been confident of. Arthur might be quicker, but Ned was bigger and so they moved around one another, until eventually Ned had knocked Arthur’s sword out of his hand. Jaime cheered and clapped along with everyone else. Something was said between Ned and Arthur but then they were laughing and clapping along with everyone else.

Ned and Arthur joined him then, as did Prince Oberyn. “Do you want to show Arthur and the Prince the Rock, Jaime?” Ned asked him.

“Yes!” Jaime said then. He turned and walked quickly back inside, knowing as he did so that Ned would follow and would bring with him the Prince and Arthur. As he got inside he nearly bumped into Cersei. “What are you doing?” He asked his twin.

“Looking for you.” Cersei said, sounding irritated. “Do you want to show our guests around the Rock?”

“Yes!” Jaime replied excitedly. They waited for a little bit and then Ned and the others joined them and they walked off toward the entrance to the vaults. Waiting for them there were Princess Elia and Lady Ashara. Jaime felt himself blush a little when Princess Elia smiled at him. “Shall we go in?” He asked.

“Where are we going?” Prince Oberyn asked.

“Into the vaults!” Jaime said. “The place where history is made in the Rock. Where there are scary passages and all sorts of other things to be of interest!”

“Well lead the way, my lord.” Prince Oberyn said.

Jaime looked briefly at Ned who nodded, Jaime grinned and then said. “Okay.” He set off down the pathway at a run. The entrance to the vaults was dark, had always been dark according to what Uncle Gerion said. They got to a set of doors then and Jaime stopped.  He smiled. “These doors were built during the time of King Loren Lannister. As a means of ensuring that…” he looked at Ned, who then spoke.

“Of ensuring that there was always a way in and out of the Rock that could be accessible to all.” Ned supplied.

Jaime beamed and then continued. “We need to knock.” He turned and knocked once, and then again on the door. The door slowly opened and they walked through the gap. Another door appeared, this one had silver dragons on it. “A gift.” Jaime explained, he knocked again and this door opened as well. They walked through it and then they were in a brightly illuminated hall.

“This place is huge.” Lady Ashara said.

Jaime grinned. “It is. It was built to accommodate a lot of things.”

“What sort of things?” Prince Oberyn asked.

“Nobody knows.” Ned said. “But it has always been here.”

“Well, lead the way, we don’t want to be left in the dark.” Princess Elia said.

Jaime kept walking, the torches on the walls illuminating the way. They walked passed portraits of lions and men with two heads, and some with three. It was a strange place. Jaime had always meant to ask Mama about this, but he’d never done so. As they walked, Jaime found himself looking at a statue of a man with a lion at his side. He stopped, everyone stopped as well. Prince Oberyn spoke then. “Fascinating. I’ve heard about this, but never seen it before.”

“Seen what, my Prince?” Ned asked.

“This statute. Of the man with a lion. It is said to be a very old piece of art, done before the fall of Valyria. When Valyria itself was but a few shepherds.” Prince Oberyn said.

Jaime looked at the statute, and then he turned and looked at Prince Oberyn. “What is so special about it?” He asked, genuinely quite curious.

Prince Oberyn straightened, his voice took on a strange tone. “The statute we see here, was said to have been forged by the original first men. Back before they came to Westeros. It is said to represent one of their gods. Something that many had thought impossible.”

“The First men worshipped the old gods for a long time, how could anyone know what their original gods were?” Ned asked, a strange tint to his voice.

Prince Oberyn did not seem undeterred. “There are records, in places such as Asshai or even in Volantis that speak of what the gods were that were worshipped before the First Men made their pact with the Children. This statute here is supposed to represent the King of these Gods. None know his name, but he was said to be revered.”

Curious, Jaime moved closer to the statute and looked at it. The man looked tall, with long hair, a slight beard, and a smile on his face. The lion was big, and broad, with a snarl appointed on its face. “Why is it here then?” Jaime asked.

“I do not know.” Prince Oberyn said and shrugged. “There is something like this in Sunspear as well. Except that the statute there is of a woman with a trident.”

“Well, as fascinating as this is, I’m feeling a bit cold, perhaps we could head back to the castle proper?” Princess Elia asked.

Jaime did not want to move from here, but he knew that if he said no, it would be frowned upon. So, instead he nodded. “Of course, Princess.” He turned away from the statute and walked passed the others, leading the way through the doors, and through the darkness of the entrance and back into the light. They walked down a deserted hallway, before finding Mama and Princess Loreza waiting for them.

“Ah, there you are. We’ve been looking for you.” Mama said, her voice soft, though her eyes looked stern.

Jaime wanted to say where they had been, but he snuck a quick look over his shoulder and saw Ned shaking his head, and so he kept his mouth shut. Thankfully, Mama spoke again. “Loreza, I am sure you won’t mind if I take Jaime and Cersei with me, do you? To talk with them about what we discussed?”

Princess Loreza shook her head. “Of course not, I’ll take Elia and Oberyn as well to do the same.”

Surprised Jaime found Mama taking his and Cersei’s hands, and walking down the corridor. As they walked down the hallway, Jaime found himself asking. “What about Ned, Mama? What will he and the Daynes do?”

“They will be fine. Now come along, your father wishes to speak with you.” Mama said, something in her voice making Jaime realise that perhaps he should remain quiet for now.

They walked in silence through the deserted hallway, and up the stairs that led to Father’s solar, and when they got there, Papa was there, but so was Uncle Kevan. That surprised Jaime, he looked at Cersei quickly and she raised her eyes upward, showing she did not know what was happening either. “I brought them just as you asked.” Mama said, the same strange tone to her voice.

Papa nodded. “Sit down.” He said gesturing to two chairs before him. Jaime and Cersei sat in the two chairs, and Jaime fidgeted slightly under Papa’s stern gaze. After a long moment, Papa spoke. “How are you finding the Martells?”

The question surprised Jaime. Cersei spoke first. “Princess Elia is very smart, and very pretty. And Prince Oberyn is like Uncle Gerion.”

Papa smiled. “Jaime?” He asked.

Jaime was not sure what to say, he had the feeling that he was supposed to say something specific, but he was not quite sure just what that was supposed to be. “Prince Oberyn is funny, and he is a good fighter. Do you think he might let me become his squire?” Jaime said in a rush.

Papa laughed. “You do not want to be my squire then? I am offended.”

“Oh, no…Papa, I want to be your squire as well. It’s just that…” Jaime trailed off and blushed.

Papa laughed again, a deep booming sound. “It is fine Jaime. I am sure that should I speak with her, Princess Loreza would more than consent for you to become Prince Oberyn’s squire. But that is not why I asked you here. A letter has come from King’s Landing, we are to go to the capital, for a tourney held in the King’s honour. The Martells are coming with us. And I must make sure you get along with them.”

“We are going to King’s Landing?” Cersei asked.

“Is Ned coming with us as well?” Jaime asked at the same time.

“Yes, and Yes. We leave in two days’ time.” Papa said. “I expect you to be on your best behaviour throughout our journey there.”

“Yes Papa.” They said in unison.

Papa smiled again and said. “You may go.” Jaime and Cersei stood up then, bowed before Papa and then turned and left.

As they all but ran through the hallways, Jaime said. “We’re going to King’s Landing. We will get to see the King, the Queen, Prince Rhaegar and the Kingsguard.”

“We will get to see the Red Keep, and the library!” Cersei said.

They stopped and stared at one another. “We’re going to King’s Landing!” It was unbelievable, they made their way over to Ned and Jaime’s room, but Ned was not there.

“I wonder where he could be.” Jaime said aloud.

“Who cares. Jaime, you know, we could spend some time together.” Cersei said.

Jaime looked at her and said. “But I want to find Ned!” He pushed passed her and went outside, only to find Ned walking toward him. “Ned!” He called out. “Ned! We’re going to King’s Landing!”

Ned looked surprised, but then smiled. “That’s good, at least now you’ll be out of my hair.”

Jaime laughed. “No, silly, you’re coming with us. Papa and Mama said!”

Ned grinned. “Well, that’s good. I wouldn’t want you to have all the fun without me. Maybe now you can get your place in the Kingsguard!”

Jaime gasped. “You think so?”

Ned winked. “I know so.”


	5. Journey East: Tywin I

****

Tywin Lannister looked at both his brothers, and tried to repress the urge to groan. “We will be gone for roughly four weeks. In that time, I want you to ensure that the accounts are well monitored and ensure that nobody skims off the top of the treasury. Ensure Crakehall remembers that he owes us three hundred dragons for the last time he used the baron.”

“Yes Tywin, we know, you’ve said that already.” Gerion said, grinning.

“I am just making sure that you do not forget all the details. The last time I was gone with Joanna, somebody forgot to ensure that the cattle from the Crag were properly butchered.” Tywin said fighting the smile that was blooming on his lips.

Gerion grinned, a twinkle in his eye. “Well, technically that wasn’t my fault. Lord Westerling introduced me to his sister, and well, things went from there.”

Normally Tywin would criticise his brother for sleeping with a lord’s sister, but really, Westerling was a pain in the arse and he could do with being brought down a peg, so Tywin merely nodded and then turned to Kevan. “You know what must be done about Farman?”

As always Kevan was solid and resolute. “Yes, if they do not take well to the singer, then I shall send ships from Lannisport to raid their own stores and ensure they get the message.”

“Good, and ensure that Farman’s daughter comes to the Rock as we discussed.” Tywin said, his brother nodded, and once he was satisfied that they weren’t going to do anything to damage the Rock he dismissed them. A few minutes later Jaime, Cersei and Eddard walked in. Jaime looked exactly as Gerion had at that age, golden hair, a mischievous smile on his face, and the eagerness of youth on his face. Tywin felt pride build within him at the sight. Cersei held herself like a lady already, her red dress was immaculate, and she smiled and curtseyed when she saw him. Eddard looked, well he looked formidable. Grey and red mixed together with gold, he looked better than he had when he had arrived. Tywin was happy with that. He cleared his throat and spoke. “Thank you for coming children. As you know we are leaving for King’s Landing today, and there were a few things I wished to discuss with you before we left.”

“Will we be getting to see the Kingsguard, Papa?” Jaime asked immediately.

Tywin smiled and nodded. “Yes, most definitely. But before we can meet them, you must know how to act around the King and the Royal Family. Do you understand?”

“Yes Papa.” Cersei said then, Tywin noticed Eddard didn’t say anything.

Tywin took a moment to think and then spoke. “When you meet the King and Queen you must bow or curtsey, and you cannot get up from that position, until they say that you can.”

“Why Papa?” Jaime asked.

“Because there are certain rules that must be followed at court. The King rules the realm and the court. You must do as he says at all times, unless I have previously told you not to.” Tywin said, remembering how his and Aerys last meeting had gone.

“But, how can we disobey the King, Papa?” Cersei asked.

“There are some things that the King cannot ask of you, but he might well ask. When he does, you need merely look to me and your answer will be there.” Tywin said, he knew that was not much of an answer, but it was one that would provide a solution to the immediate problem before him. Seeing the look of understanding on Eddard’s face, Tywin knew that whatever questions the twins had, they would ask him them later. Deciding to push on, he continued. “You are not allowed to touch the Royal Family unless they invite you to. To do so without their express permission will mean that the hand or foot, or whatever you use to touch them will be removed.” He saw Eddard and Jaime grimace then and he knew that they were remembering their lessons. Before anyone could ask any other questions, he continued. “Finally, when playing with the Royal Princes and Princesses, make sure to walk behind them at all times. It is a sign of respect and deference.” He paused for a moment, and then asked. “Any questions?”

Jaime asked first. “When will we get to see the Kingsguard? Will we get to meet them?”

Cersei then asked. “What is Prince Rhaegar like?”

Tywin smiled. “You will meet the Kingsguard at the welcoming feast, they will be there in their finery.” Another smile pulled at his lips at the excitement writ plainly on Jaime’s face. He had missed that. He turned to Cersei and replied. “Prince Rhaegar is a fine young man, charming and careful with his words. You will like him.”

“I will?” Cersei gushed.

“Yes, I am certain of it.” Tywin replied, he already had plans forming regarding the two of them.

Cersei smiled and blushed slightly, and then she asked. “May we leave now Papa? I haven’t finished packing and Ned and Jaime were going to show me something.”

Tywin gestured for the door, and said. “You may go.” He was happy to see Cersei leading the boys out by the hand, he had been worried she would not like Eddard. Evidently his concern had been misplaced. Once the children were gone he made some final preparations for their departure, it would take them two weeks to get there. And no doubt Aerys would want the children to spend some time there, and then he would need to remain there until Aerys granted him leave. He took a deep breath, Joanna was coming with him, it would be okay. The dwarf was being left behind, thankfully, but Joanna was coming and that was important.

He said a quick prayer and then walked out of the solar, his cloak billowing behind him. He walked passed a variety of servants who bowed their heads at him and made his way down the pulley system, and down to where the carriages were waiting. One for his wife and children, and another for Princess Loreza and her family. He nodded to Princess, kissed his wife and then mounted his horse.  At his word the gate was opened and the procession streamed out, a companion of orange and gold. They rode down the slope and he turned slightly, to do as he always did and get one last look at the Rock before he turned and rode forward.

Their journey took them through the green of the Westerlands. Tywin was always very proud when he rode through the area and got to see just what it was he ruled. There were people toiling the fields, working hard to produce the goods that made the Westerlands one of the richest kingdoms in all of Westeros. The people bowed their heads and acknowledged him, their lord as they passed them by. He felt a swell of pride at that. Had this been his father day, nobody would have bothered to look up when the Lord of Casterly Rock rode through his lands. He still remembered once as a child, when some farmer had dared raise arms at his Lord Father. Lord Tytos had merely laughed and smiled until the fool had put down his arms, but not before they were down several golden coins.

When he had become Lord of the Rock, Tywin had searched that farmer out and had him executed for old overdue land rents. He had then had the farmer’s family executed for the crime as well. Now that farm belonged to a man who had served as Tywin’s valet as a boy in King’s Landing. He had fond memories of King’s Landing, of playing and laughing with Aerys and Steffon when they were all just children. Of throwing water at Aerys in the pools of the Red Keep, of sparring with Steffon and teaching him how to fight properly. Of play fighting with Rhaella, and learning the tricks of war from Prince Duncan and Prince Daeron. He remembered when things had changed after Summerhall.

He did not know what had happened at Summerhall, for by then he was a man grown and back in the Westerlands putting up with his father’s failure. But he saw the haunted expressions in Aerys and Steffon’s eyes afterwards. He heard their voices and the fear in them when they spoke about their grandfather. Something had happened there that had changed their friendship. After the War of the Ninepenny Kings, Steffon remained in Storm’s End, and Aerys began to dream. Tywin had tried to help his friend achieve his dreams, but Aerys did not seem to have the patience to allow them to bear fruition, just like with his mistresses as well. Aerys slept with many women, but did not remember their names in the morning.  Tywin was surprised that he had managed to get Rhaella pregnant as often as he had. Rhaegar, Shaena, Daenerys and another pregnancy expected, Tywin knew his friend wanted another son, and that he also wanted to marry his son and daughter to one another. But Tywin had a plan, a plan he and Aerys father had agreed to, and one he was determined to see come to light.

Deep Den greets them after five days of travel. The fortress carved into a rock with a water fall near it. They sit, drink and eat. Talking about nothing and everything. Lord Lewys Lydden is a good man, steadfast and loyal and a thinker. Tywin is intrigued by his proposals for a great road network, greater than the King’s Road, and he is intrigued by his proposal for a proper banking system, one that would reduce the power of the Iron Bank. He thinks that is something Aerys would appreciate, but for now Tywin would keep it to himself. He would not allow Aerys to take anything before he was ready to give it. He thanked Lord Lydden and they rode out after the day of rest and sleep.

From Deep Den, they take the long road of the Gold Road down toward King’s Landing. Tywin knows they could have taken a more scenic route, but his desire to get King’s Landing, outweighs his desire to give his children something to look at. The Gold Road was built by an ancestor of his, which one he cannot remember, no doubt if he wanted to, Eddard Stark would be able to tell him, the boy has a veritable memory that stores almost everything. Eventually, on the road, they stop at the Gold Inn, run by a bastard cousin of his. Tywin nods to him, and they settle in, multiple rooms in the Inn-it’s more of a manor- are filled out by their procession. They sit down to eat and drink, for a day, then another. On the third day, Hoster Tully finally arrives.

They take the main room, near the back, where once Lord Gerold Lannister killed a Blackfyre with his bare hands. Tywin, Hoster and Princess Loreza all gather in this room, and they sit and look at one another for a moment, the last time the three of them were together was for Aerys coronation, a decade ago. Tywin takes a breath and then speaks. “Have you been able to canvass support, as I asked?”

Hoster nods. “Everyone apart from Frey is on board. They know what needs to be done and when. The question is not whether they will do it, it is whether they will have the stomach to go the entire way.”

“It is necessary, surely they can see that?” Loreza asked. She looked as beautiful as the first day Tywin had seen her, all those years ago.

“I think they are hesitant because of the precedent it could well set. But unless we do something, then the others will take control and we are all finished.” Hoster said.

Tywin nodded. “If they do not act as we wish them to, then we will have another Aegon The Fifth situation on our hands and that is not something that can be abided by. The King has many great plans, but not all of them are sensible.”

Princess Loreza snorted. “You can say that again. He wished to conjure things from Dorne that are not there. I believe sometimes that the dreaming that his grandfather had skipped Jaehaerys and went straight to him. Perhaps if he was more like his father, we would not be facing something such as this.”

 _We would be facing something much worse._ Tywin thought to himself. He knew what King Jaehaerys had been, and he was anything but the kind and nice man he pretended to be in public. Aerys had told him about his father on the first day they had met, and he had not been proven wrong. Tywin shook his head slightly then and said. “Perhaps, but that is neither here nor there. Now tell me Hoster, where do you believe Jon Arryn stands on this point?”

Hoster shifted slightly, the man looked tired, he was old, older than Tywin, but about as old as Loreza, but there was something else in him that made Tywin wonder if his friend would be up for what they had to do. Eventually Hoster spoke. “Jon Arryn is a man who keeps his cards close to his chest. He has raised Robert Baratheon and his own nephew with great strides, and he is doing things to reform the Vale to make it more self-dependent. I do not know whether he would be willing to continue with what we planned.”

“Then he must be removed and his nephew put in power. We cannot have anyone threatening what we have worked for.” Tywin said simply.

“You would seek to remove a sitting Lord Paramount?” Hoster asked sounding alarmed.

Tywin sighed. “I want to make sure our plans are not ruined. We have worked too long and hard to ensure that they are stable and the King supports them. If Jon Arryn gets in the way of those plans he must go, and someone must take his place who is favourable to our plans and our way of thinking.”

Hoster sighed, running a hand through his fraying auburn hair. “Then why did you repeal the laws that Aegon the Fifth had put in place. The moment you did that, I think you might well have sealed the fate of the realm for Jon Arryn.”

Tywin inhaled. “I did what was needed after the war and after Summerhall. We needed to ensure the great lords were on side and that they were willing to look the other way whilst we implemented the changes that we felt needed to be implemented. Now those changes are finally taking shape we have the right movement to be able to get to grips with what now needs to be done.”

Princess Loreza was the one who spoke then, her voice sharp and to the point. “Let us say this works, what happens next? Do we go the full way and ensure that everything is changed at once, or do we ensure small stable change? Does the King know what he will do when everything is said and done?”

 _The King does not even know this is happening._ Tywin thought to himself, but he did not say that aloud, for he was not a fool, he was not his father. Instead he said. “The King is planning for all outcomes. And he is waiting for us to deliver on what we said we would.”

That seemed to satisfy Loreza and Hoster, for Hoster soon said. “The hour grows late, I would sleep and think more on what we have discussed here.”

“I agree, I think that is a wise idea.” Loreza said.

Tywin nodded. “Then let us take the time we need. I shall be heading to King’s Landing tomorrow with my family and from there we shall see.” The other two nodded and got up and left. Tywin remained where he was for a moment and then decided that he too would go to sleep. The thought of Joanna waiting for him, was enough for him to shoot up and walk out of the main room, up the stairs and to their shared room.

She was waiting for him when he opened the door, dressed in barely a thing. She smiled at him and asked. “How did it go?”

He took off his doublet, and began working on removing his shoes and his breeches. “As well as can be expected.” His clothes fell to the floor and he moved to the bed, where Joanna met him with a kiss. “They will follow the plan we outlined.”

Joanna kissed him again and then broke the kiss apart. “Are you sure you are comfortable with everything we have planned?”

Tywin thought about this for a second, he did not want Joanna near Aerys, not ever again, but he knew that perhaps it was inevitable. He kissed her and then pulled away and asked, with all the emotion he had. “Just promise me one thing.”

“Anything.” Joanna said sincerely.

“Are you mine, now and forever?” He asked, hating how much like a child he felt.

“Now and forever.” Joanna said nodding her head.

“I am yours for now and forever.” Tywin said, putting his forehead against hers and whispered. “Then let Aerys say what he has to. He will not beat us.”

Joanna smiled and said. “No he will not.” They lost themselves then in kissing and love.

The next morning the Lannister procession set off from the Gold Inn, leaving the Tully and Martell processions to follow on. They rode without pause, apart from when they stopped over the nights. It took them another week to get to the capital, but when they did, they were greeted outside the Lion Gate by Prince Rhaegar and two knights of the Kingsguard. The Prince was dressed in the red and black of his house, his hair was short, and he had the beginning of what looked like a moustache. His voice had dropped and he spoke confidently. “Welcome to King’s Landing, my lord of Lannister. Please follow me through the gate, the Red Keep and the King await you.”

Tywin watched as the Prince turned and rode back through the gate, Tywin turned and looked at the carriage where Joanna and his children were, he then took a deep breath and rode through the gate after the Prince, to where his childhood friend was waiting for him, for them.

 

 

 


	6. Magic: Joanna I

****

The prince looked handsome, dressed as he was in the red and black of his house. Joanna remembered him as a babe, he had been a small child, and one who was constantly tottering to one book or another. If Joanna could remember correctly, Prince Rhaegar had been able to speak by the time he was a year old, and able to read properly by the time he was three. He had always been a smart child, and now he was growing into a fine young man. He would make a good husband for Cersei. Of course, Cersei was starring open mouthed out the window of the carriage as they travelled through the city. King’s Landing was a sprawling heap of buildings, shit, and gold. It was not as impressive as Lannisport, but Aerys had made many changes since coming to power.

The piles of shit had been moved, replaced by glowing structures that reflected the grandiosity with which Aerys viewed his dynasty. There were statues of dragons and the Dragon Kings, everywhere. It was somewhat nauseating if she were being honest. She was surprised neither Jaime or Cersei were saying much, but then again, seeing the capital of the Seven Kingdoms was always enough to keep her quiet with awe, so why should it not be the same for her children? She looked outside the window of the carriage, and saw Eddard staring at the buildings with the same expression of awe that the children had. Coming from the north all this extravagance must have been a lot for him to take in.

They wound their way up Aegon’s High Hill, people were out in force to look and gape. The Hand of the King had returned and so had his wife and family, no doubt the people would talk about this for a long time. It was important to come in all finery when coming to the capital. The King and Queen respected such things, more than their father and mother had done. Joanna smiled slightly as she thought about the Queen. Rhaella was a smart woman, with a sharp tongue and an even sharper mind. She was looking forward to seeing her again.

Eventually the carriage stopped as they reached the top of Aegon’s High Hill. She could hear Tywin speaking to someone, no doubt it was the King. The door to the carriage opened, and the children stepped out, then Joanna did. As she stepped out of the carriage, she heard Aerys say. “Ah, and here she is. The woman of the moment.” Joanna repressed a shudder and plastered a smile on her face, she walked with Jaime and Cersei’s hands in hers. She stopped next to Tywin and curtseyed, Jaime bowed and Cersei curtseyed.

“Your Majesties. It is an honour.” Joanna said. She smiled at Rhaella, who was dressed in red and black with her hair tied back in a bow. She was relieved when Rhaella smiled back at her. They had not parted on the best of terms.

“Welcome to King’s Landing and to the Red Keep, Lord and Lady Lannister.” Aerys said formally. Joanna looked at him and saw that his hair was long and free flowing, there was a cheeky glint in his eye that she remembered from childhood. Aerys kissed her hand and then stepped back and said. “You have met my son, Prince Rhaegar. Now I think it fair that I introduce you to my daughters.” Something about the way Aerys said the word daughters, made Joanna think that he was not happy to have two daughters. That was useful information, she could use that. Two girls stepped forward and curtseyed to them. The taller girl, looked slightly wary, but smiled when her father introduced her. “This is my daughter, Princess Shaena.” Another girl, smaller and younger, about Jaime’s age stepped forward then. “And this is my daughter, Daenerys.” The way Aerys said her name made Joanna think that he did not like Daenerys, a reminder that he did not have a spare son. Good, they could make use of that. She saw Jaime gaping at Daenerys, out the corner of her eye and smiled some more. They could definitely use that.

It fell to Joanna to introduce their children. “This is our eldest son and heir, Jaime.” Jaime bowed before the King and Queen. Aerys smiled, something glinting in his eyes, that Joanna did not like. Cersei stepped forward and curtseyed, like the proper lady she was. “And this is our daughter Cersei.” Rhaella smiled then.

Aerys clapped his hands. “Very well. Tywin, I hear you have Lord Rickard’s son with you as well. Where is he?”

They had expected this and therefore when Tywin gestured, Eddard stepped forward and bowed. “This is Eddard Stark, second son of Lord Rickard Stark.” Tywin said. Eddard was dressed in red and grey, a mix of Lannister and Stark colours.

Aerys looked the boy up and down before nodding. “I see they’ve already got you dressed like a Lannister. Tell me boy, how is your father?”

Eddard stiffened slightly, before replying. “He is well Your Majesty. He wrote to me to tell you; he sends his regards.”

Joanna smiled, that was well played. Lord Rickard had said no such thing, and if he had done so, Joanna would have known. Eddard told her almost everything. The King merely nodded. “Very well.” There was a pause, and then the King clapped his hands. “Well, I trust that you will be tired. A long journey, I shall have you escorted to your rooms and then prepared for the evening festivities.” With that Aerys barked out a series of commands and they found their things being taken from the horses and carriages to the rooms within the Red Keep. As Tywin walked with Aerys, Rhaella walked with her. They walked in companionable silence,  until they stopped at a big room, with two beds, one for each of the twins. Rhaella smiled and walked away.

As she got the children settled down, Jaime spoke. “The Red Keep is huge!”

Joanna smiled. “Not as big as the Rock though.” Cersei replied haughtily.

Joanna’s smile disappeared slightly then. Cersei would need to learn to keep such thoughts to herself at the evening meal, Aerys would not react well to such comments, and it was important that Aerys liked Cersei, if he were to ever consider having her be married to Rhaegar. Thankfully, Cersei did not elaborate, and Jaime instead asked. “Mama, didn’t you live in the Red Keep for a while, when you were littler?”

Joanna smiled. “I did. From the time I was your age, to the time when I married your father.”

“You served as Queen Rhaella’s lady in waiting didn’t you, Mama?” Cersei asked then, her eyes large with interest.

Joanna nodded, her mind playing back the argument that she and Rhaella had had the last day that she had been in King’s Landing, and how Aerys had been the cause of it all. She could tell her children were looking at her expectantly, and so she smiled and said. “We were the best of friends.  We had our lessons together, and we played pranks on the King and on Tywin and on Steffon. It was a fun time.”

“Did you stop being Queen Rhaella’s lady in waiting because you married Papa?” Cersei asked.

Joanna thought about the question for a moment, the honest answer was no, but she could not say that. Not now. So, instead she nodded her head and said. “Yes. I was needed at the Rock, as Lord Tytos, your grandfather did not have a wife, and there were some things at the Rock that needed a lady’s touch.” That was true as well, Lord Tytos had allowed his whore to take control and she had nearly bankrupted the Rock with her messiness.

Jaime yawned then. “When is the evening meal, Mama?”

Joanna kissed his brow and said. “Not for some time yet, my love. Sleep, I will come and wake you, when it is time for you to get ready.” She kissed both their brows and then stood up and watched as they snuggled into their beds. She hoped that they would not do anything untoward. Or rather that Cersei would not try anything of the such. Jaime was too good to say no if his sister asked. She closed the door, and nodded to the guards who wore the red of the Rock outside the door, and made her way to Eddard’s room. Their ward was sat on the bed, reading a book as she had expected. She knocked on the door and he stood up. “How are you feeling?” she asked.

Eddard hesitated for a moment, it was something he did often, as if he was not sure what he was and was not allowed to say. Not for the first time, Joanna wondered what sort of household Lord Rickard ran in the north. Eventually, Eddard spoke. “I am well my lady, truly. A little tired.” He held up the book in his hand. “But I have found something to keep my occupied until the time comes for the evening meal.”

Joanna smiled. Eddard was always reading something or the other, and because of him Jaime was also improving his ability to read. “Very well. I will come and knock on your door when it is time to get ready for the evening meal.” Eddard nodded and she turned and walked from his room. She walked down the hallway, memories playing in her head. The ghosts of the past, seeing herself and Rhaella playing hide and seek with Aerys and Tywin, before Steffon had come. And then Playing knights and maidens when Steffon was here. She remembered sitting on her father’s knee when he had come to visit and had exchanged stories with Prince Daeron. She smiled at the thought, and then made her way over to her and Tywin’s rooms. Her husband was sat reading a letter of some sort, but stopped when he saw her. He raised an eyebrow in silent question and she nodded. “The children are asleep.”

Tywin nodded relieved. “Good. They need the rest.”

Joanna looked at the letter on the table and asked. “What is that?”

Tywin sighed. “Aerys gave it to me when we went walking. Something from Braavos. They are demanding that the throne repay the loan that King Jaehaerys had taken out, immediately. I think they are concerned about the King’s alliance with Volantis.”

“What is Aerys saying?” Joanna asked, though she had a rough idea of what the King of the Seven Kingdoms would say to such a threat.

“He wants to go to war with Braavos. No matter how ill advised that would be right now. I am trying to think of a way to ensure that he gets what he wants, and that the Iron Bank gets what it wants. Otherwise we will be facing the Faceless Men.” Tywin said.

“You think it would get to that point?” Joanna asked surprised.

“With Aerys?” Her husband said. “Yes, definitely. He would rather die than fork over anything to former slaves of Valyria.” Her husband sighed and then pushed the letter away from himself. He grabbed her hands, and she followed him into his lap. “You know he wants to rebuild the King’s Road. Again.”

Joanna laughed. “It does make sense; the King’s Road is a broken husk of a thing. Not worth its title.”

Her husband nodded his agreement, but then sighed. “Aerys would change his mind before the project could properly begin. And if he did by some miracle agree to have it happen, part way through he would change his mind and then we would all be in danger then.”

Joanna exhaled. Her husband spoke the truth, Aerys was changeable, always had been. A sign of his father in him that he never liked. Deciding that for the moment that Aerys could be forgotten, she got of her husband’s lap and pulled him to the bed. He came without complaint, and they lay down on the bed, they both closed their eyes and slept for some time. It was a welcome break. Sometime later, there was a knock on the door, Joanna got up, and looked at the guard who had knocked and heard him say. “There is an hour until the feast, my lady.” Joanna nodded. Tywin was already awake, and getting up. Joanna decided that she would go and get the children ready first, and then herself.

She moved passed the guard, and out into the hallway, memories did not greet her this time, and that was a relief. She walked quickly, passed guards wearing red and gold, stopping first at Eddard’s room. He was dressed already, in a red and grey doublet, with trimmings of gold, he looked handsome and he blushed when she told him so. She smiled and walked on, toward the twins’ room. She opened the door, and found them up and getting changed. She watched silently for a moment as they helped each other put their clothes on and wondered what it would be like, if they were always this neat and tidy and active. Jaime was the first one to notice her. “Look Mama!” he cried out. “I’m got changed all by myself.”

Before Joanna could reply, Cersei said. “I helped!”

Joanna smiled and said. “I can see that. Are you both ready?”

Jaime looked at himself and nodded, Cersei looked at herself and nodded. Jaime was wearing a red and gold doublet with breeches, whilst Cersei wore a golden dress. “Do you want me to do your hair, Cersei?” Joanna asked.

“Yes please, Mama!” Cersei exclaimed.

“Good, move to the dresser then.” Joanna said and Cersei did as bid, sat before the big mirror. Joanna took the clips from the box on the table and began platting her daughter’s hair. As she did so, she heard Jaime say.

“I’m going to see Ned!” the door opened and then closed.

In the silence, Joanna did her daughter’s hair, and then when that was done she kissed the top of Cersei’s head and took her to Eddard’s room. Leaving her there with her brothers, before walking back to her own room. She changed out of the clothes she had worn whilst travelling and got changed into a midnight blue gown, with an amethyst necklace. She smiled when Tywin’s mouth dropped open. Together they walked out of the room, and Joanna smiled when her children said. “You look beautiful Mama.” As a group, they walked toward the throne room, where the King and Queen and their children were waiting for them.

Aerys said nothing as he took her arm and linked it with his. The herald announced them and they walked through the open doors, Kingsguard on either side of them. The throne room fell silent as they walked in, Aerys led her to her seat, which was to his left, Tywin was to his right, and Rhaella was to his right.  A speech was made, and then they began tucking into the food.  The starters were bread with wine and cheese. It was a standard dish for King’s Landing, but then there was a second main which was duck rolls. Now this was new. No doubt Rhaella wanted to try something new, she doubted Aerys would be able to remember anything new, to do with food. She let out an appreciative sigh, and Aerys surprised her by saying. “I remember you liked duck as a child.”

“I did Your Majesty. It is such a rarity in Casterly Rock and Lannisport.” Joanna replied.

“Then you should spend more time here at court. Then you can have all the duck you wish to have.” Aerys replied glibly.

Joanna smiled sweetly at him. “I will be here with my husband and children for around two weeks. I am sure by then I would have had my fill of duck.”

She was surprised when Aerys laughed, normally he would have snarled at her for that comment. “Well then, that will be the day then.” There was a moment of silence and then the King spoke once more. “How have you been? Truly?”

For a moment, Joanna considered the eyes of the King and saw the earnest boy he had been. She smiled at that boy and said. “I have been well enough; Your Majesty thank you. I am enjoying life at the Rock, and raising my children.”

The King nodded. “I know that Lord Rickard originally wanted his son to foster with Jon Arryn. But I advised him to send the boy to Tywin and you. I thought it would do him more good. How is he settling in?”

This was new information to her. She had been under the impression that Lord Rickard had written to Tywin directly. But to ensure that Aerys did not think that he had caught her off guard, she said. “He is doing well. The children love him, and I think he likes it at the Rock.”

The King was silent as the starters were replaced by the mains, which was roasted lamb with potatoes and gravy. After a few bites, he spoke again. “That is good. It is important that the north is more integrated into the realm. Tywin is the one person I trust to make the north come back properly into the kingdoms.”

Joanna nodded. She remained silent then, and listened to other strains of conversation. Something to do with Lady Merryweather having taken ill. Lord Celtigar being caught in bed with Lord Rosby’s wife. All the usual gossip, that bored her but was important to building a solid defence against the court. Eventually, the mains were removed and desert was put before them. Joanna saw Jaime and Eddard listening in rapt attention as Prince Rhaegar spoke about something in great detail, that involved moving his hands a lot. She smiled at the sight. Then there was Cersei speaking animatedly to Princess Shaena and Princess Daenerys. Things were going very well.

The musicians started playing then, as people started finishing their deserts. The King led his wife out to dance, and then Tywin led her out to dance, they switched partners after a twirl or two. The King did nothing inappropriate for a change, and Joanna was beginning to think that things were normal again, like how they were before Summerhall. The dancing continued for a long time, by which point the children had been taken to bed. Eventually, the evening finished, and Tywin walked back with her to their chambers. The King remained behind in the throne room, drinking and laughing.

They checked in on the children, Jaime and Cersei were fast asleep, and Eddard was reading. She kissed them all good night, and then walked back to her and Tywin’s rooms. As they were getting changed, Joanna said. “Did you know Lord Rickard originally wanted to send Eddard to the Vale?”

“Did Aerys tell you that?” Tywin asked.

 “Yes.” Joanna replied, she sensed her husband was about to tell her something that would contradict the King.

“Then he is either lying or saying something that Rickard hid from me. As far as I know, Rickard only approached me, not Jon Arryn. And the King had nothing to do with it.”  Tywin said simply.

Joanna nodded. “I suspected as much. The King rarely gets involved in such things.”

Her husband sighed. “Until he does.” And they both remained silent knowing what he meant by that, and the fact that Steffon had not been at court for a decade.


	7. Tourneys and Princes: Jaime III

The ground was packed full of people, nobles, merchants, and commoners. That’s what Ned had told him, and Jaime believed him. He could see it all from where he was sat in the Royal Box, but really, he was more interested in staring down at the place where the jousting would happen.  Ned had said that knights had come from across the realm for the tourney, which was being held to celebrate the tenth anniversary of the King’s ascension to the throne. From what Ned, had told him, ascension meant becoming King. Jaime did not really understand why they didn’t just say that instead of using such fancy words. Then again, he did not really understand why adults used so many big words to begin with anyway. The roar of the crowd subsided and drew his attention firmly to where a royal herald was now standing. The man wore the red and black of the Royal family, and he was a slightly portly man. Jaime could see the sweat on the man’s head from where he was sitting.

The man’s voice was loud and clear, even though a hush had fallen over the stands. “Your Majesties, lords and ladies, people of King’s Landing. Welcome to the tournament to celebrate His Majesty, the King’s ascension to the throne. Today we have the jousting, tomorrow, the melee. There are many competitors who have come to compete for the prize that is being awarded. The first two jousters are Ser Barristan Selmy of the Kingsguard, and Ser Terrence Toyne.” The herald stepped off the platform and walked away.

Jaime looked at Ned who was sat to his right and grinned, his brother grinned back at him. The crowd had begun chattering away again, even from the Royal Box, Jaime could sense the excitement and the anticipation that was building in the ground. The two knights appeared, Ser Barristan looked like a knight from a song, dressed in gleaming white armour, white cloak fluttering behind him. Ser Terrence Toyne was from an old and disgraced house, his clothes were threadbare, but he had pride, that’s what Ned had said to him before they had entered the tourney ground. Both men stood before the royal box and bowed. Jaime saw the King wave his hand and both men moved back to their respective places, mounting their horses and taking a lance from their squires.

Jaime felt his heart speed up as the crowd fell silent. This was exciting, this was what he’d been looking forward to ever since Papa and Mama had said they were going to King’s Landing.  The two knights looked at one another, and then they spurred their horses toward one another.  Jaime leaned forward in his seat and watched as their lances missed one another, they rode passed one another and then turned around and rode back toward one another. This time, Ser Barristan’s lance was true and Ser Terrence was knocked off his horse. The crowd roared in approval, and Jaime cheered with them. Ser Barristan stopped his horse and handed his lance to his squire, he then got down from his horse and helped Ser Terrence up off the ground.

Jaime watched as the two men walked off the field, and two new competitors entered.   The herald stepped forward and named them as. “Ser Lewis of Maidenpool and Ser Geoffrey Rivers.” Jaime watched as the two knights bowed and then took their positions on their horses. They rode passed one another the first time, and then a second time, then a third time. On the fourth time, Ser Lewis who wore purple and green broke his lance against Ser Geoffrey’s, and had to take a new lance. On the fifth pass, Ser Lewis was knocked off his horse.  The crowd clapped politely. Jaime looked at Ned who nodded in response to his unasked question, that meant that Ser Geoffrey would face Ser Barristan in the next round.

A few more knights came forward with unremarkable names, but Jaime watched them joust with fascination. This was his first big tournament, he’d not seen one at the Rock, at least not one he could remember. There’d been a tourney when he’d turned one and when he’d turned three, but he could not remember them so they did not count.  The herald seemed to be more and more loose of tongue, his words were slurred and Ned was laughing slightly. Jaime leaned in and asked. “What’s so funny?”

Ned looked over to where Mama and Papa were frowning, and whispered. “He’s drunk.”

Jaime’s eyebrows rose. “What’s drunk?” he asked.

Ned smirked. “That.”

Before Jaime could ask anything more, the herald came forward and announced. “Now we are onto the next round, Ser Barristan is to compete against Ser Geoffrey Rivers.”

Jaime immediately leaned forward, he looked at Cersei, but she was busy staring at the Prince, she’d been doing that ever since they’d come to the capital. It was a little annoying. Jaime turned back to the action on the ground, and cheered when Ser Barristan knocked Ser Geoffrey off his horse in the first tilt.  Jaime watched the other tilts but with less interest, now he was happy Ser Barristan would be competing in the final he could rest easy. Ned however, kept up a constant feedback of the action. Jaime listened as Ned talked about the form of the jousters, their space between lance and horse, and their action. None of it really made sense to Jaime, but he nodded along and hmmed in agreement. Eventually Ned fell silent when it came to the final. Ser Barristan Selmy against his fellow Kingsguard brother, Ser Gwayne Gaunt.

Ser Gwayne Gaunt was a big bull of a man, as far as Jaime could see, he was like a bull or an ox. He said this to Ned, and his brother just laughed in agreement.  The two knights bowed before the King and then mounted their horses. On the first pass, they missed one another, on the second they broke their lances. On the third they broke their lances again. On the fourth they hit one another. On the fifth they broke their lances. On the sixth they hit one another. The crowd was cheering, roaring for their favourites. Jaime was not sure who to support, his hero was Ser Barristan, but Ser Gwayne was giving him a good run for show.

On the seventh pass they broke their lances again. Even the King was paying attention now. Jaime could tell because Papa was looking at the King with his lord’s face.  On the eighth pass they hit one another and someone grunted. The crowd was coming alive now, cheering and chanting. Jaime was enraptured by it all. There were some strange smells wafting up from the crowd now, the sun was lowering itself in the sky. Jaime watched and then brought himself back to focus on the events unfolding below as another set of lances were broken. He turned to Ned and whispered. “Has this ever happened before?”

His brother nodded. “Once. Long, long ago.”

Jaime wants to ask when, but then a roar goes up from the crowd and his head snaps back to the action. Ser Gwayne has knocked Ser Barristan’s lance from his hand with the power of his blow. Ser Barristan grabbed another lance and they are back at it. Again, they go, and again it happens. Again, and again, until Ser Gwayne is somehow knocked from his horse. The crowd cheers and groans in equal measure.  Ser Barristan does a round around the ground and then stops and dismounts, walking with his sworn brother to stand before the King.

The crowd falls silent then, and the King stands. “We have had a delightful tournament so far.   The men who have competed in the jousting have done themselves and their King proud. And these two knights before me, knights of the Kingsguard have done themselves very proud. I recognise Ser Barristan as the champion.”

The crowd roared with approval, Jaime roared alongside them. Ser Barristan kneeled before the King and then said. “Your Majesty, with your approval I would like to donate my winnings to the Charity of our Lady.” Jaime had read about the Charity of Our Lady; it was a charity dedicated to protecting ladies who had lost loved ones in war.

The King smiled. “Your request is granted Ser.” The crowd roared, and then they all stood as the King and Queen walked out of the box.

Jaime turned his attention back to the ground, which was slowly emptying out, now that the King and Queen had left. He was surprised when he heard the chairs around him moving. He turned and saw the Prince standing there. Dressed in red and black, with his hair tied behind his back. Jaime bowed alongside Ned and Father. “Lord Tywin, I hope you do not mind if I take your son and foster son out for a little tour of the Red Keep?”

 Excitement bloomed in Jaime, the sun was still up, though it was slowly lowering, but the Prince was asking to show him and Ned around the Red Keep. That was something. Jaime turned to look at Papa, and saw him smile briefly. “Of course my Prince.”

The Prince smiled in return and said. “I promise to return them to you, before the evening meal.”  Papa nodded and with that the Prince turned and walked away. Jaime looked at Ned who shrugged and walked after the Prince, Jaime did the same. Once they had caught up with the Prince he spoke. “How much have you see of the Red Keep, Jaime, Eddard?”

 “Not much, Your Majesty.” Ned said softly. “We have mainly been in our rooms or in the throne room.”

The Prince nodded. “I see, and please, call me Rhaegar, or Your Highness if you must. Your Majesty is my father.”

Jaime grinned at the slight blush that appeared on Ned’s face. “What do you want to show us, Your Highness?” Jaime asked, unable to keep the eagerness from his tone.

 The Prince stopped walking and looked at Jaime. He gestured to the white shadow at his back. “This is Ser Jonothor Darry, my sworn sword and a knight of the Kingsguard. Do you wish to go to White Sword Tower and meet the Kingsguard, or do you wish to explore the passages under the Red Keep?”

Jaime looked at Ned, the thought of meeting the Kingsguard was an exciting one, he had dreamed of meeting the famous knights of Westeros for as long as he could remember. But he also knew that there were things under the Red Keep worth exploring, things that would make Cersei jealous. He turned to Ned, and his brother asked the Prince. “How long would it take to explore the passages, Your Highness?”

The Prince grinned. “Longer than the time we have until dinner.”

Ned seemed to do the thinking then, very quickly, his eyes moving back and forth, then he looked at Jaime and raised an eyebrow, Jaime smiled and nodded eagerly. Ned turned to the Prince and said. “Perhaps going to White Sword Tower, would not be a bad idea, Your Highness.”

 The Prince grinned again. “Very well, come with me.” The Prince walked quickly, and so they did as well, Martyn Cassel and Ser Jonothor walking behind them. They walked and walked, they crossed over one bridge and then another, and then another. Finally  they arrived outside White Sword Tower, where there were gold cloaks standing guard outside, they bowed before the Prince and then nodded to Ser Jonothor. The doors were opened for  them and then they walked in, up the stairs to the ground level. Here the Prince stopped and said. “This is the table of the white swords, it is where they come to sit and relax, and talk. Ser Jonothor, perhaps you could get your sworn brothers?” The knight nodded and headed up the stairs visible in the corner. The Prince looked at them and then asked. “How did you find the jousting?”

Jaime could not help himself then, the Prince had asked him a question and he had the answer. “I loved it! It was fabulous, and brilliant, and Ser Barristan was amazing! So was Ser Gwayne!”

The Prince grinned again. “And you, Eddard?”

Ned’s reaction was more subdued. “I liked the jousting. It was good to see everything I’ve read put into practice.”

The Prince nodded. “Yes, I have been told that you like to read a lot. If you wish tomorrow, I could show you the Royal Library there are some books there that I think you would love.”

Before Jaime or Ned could ask what, the Prince meant, Ser Jonothor came down the stairs accompanied by Ser Barristan and Ser Gwayne, both were dressed in new suits of white armour and white cloaks. They looked tired, but they were standing still. Both men bowed when they saw the Prince and Ser Barristan asked. “What might we do for you, Your Highness?”

The Prince looked at the two knights, then at Jaime and said. “Young Jaime here, had a few questions for you both, I was wondering if you might answer them, if you are of course not tired?”

Jaime felt his heart go into his throat then. Ser Barristan nodded. “Of course, My Prince.” Ser Gwayne and Ser Barristan sat down in chairs to the right and left of the Prince, Ser Jonothor remained standing.

The Prince smiled, turned to Jaime and said. “Now, whatever questions you have for the two fine Sers, you may ask.”

Jaime swallowed, his throat was suddenly dry. He took a breath, then another one, then another one. Finally, he asked. “What was it likely jousting against each other today?”

Ser Gwayne spoke then. “It was excellent. Most of the time, only one Kingsguard may compete in a tourney, that usually means that the competition is not always what it should be. But today? Today was excellent, it was actually quite challenging.”

“Why is only one Kingsguard allowed to joust in a tourney?” Ned asked.

“By law the Kingsguard are sworn to protect the King and the Royal Family.” Ser Barristan explained. “You cannot have the Kingsguard relaxing from that duty for a minute. However, in tourneys with the gold cloaks present as well, it is usually permissible for one Kingsguard to compete and represent the King. As was the case today. Today, however, the King allowed myself and Ser Gwayne to compete, due to his belief that the crown needed more representation.”

Jaime was not sure he understood that explanation, but Ned did, so he nodded as well and asked. “What’s it like being in the Kingsguard? When did you join the Kingsguard? How did you feel being asked to join the Kingsguard?”

The two knights before him laughed slightly, and it was Jaime’s turn to blush. Ser Barristan spoke first. “I joined the Kingsguard twelve years ago, during the reign of King Jaehaerys the Second, the father of King Aerys. To be in the Kingsguard is the greatest honour a knight can have, to serve one’s King is to serve one’s kingdom. To protect the royal family is to protect the future and hopes of Westeros. There is no higher calling for a knight. As to how I felt being asked to join the Kingsguard, I was honoured.”

 Ser Gwayne smirked. “I joined the Kingsguard two years after Ser Barristan did. I joined after defeating the Rogue Pirate King. As Ser Barristan, has said, it is an honour to serve in the Kingsguard, and an honour and a solemn duty to protect the embodiment of Westeros.”

Jaime nodded enthusiastically and then asked. “What was it like fighting in the War of the Ninepenny Kings?” He knew Papa had fought in that war, but Papa had never mentioned  it before, and Jaime really wanted to know what it was like fighting against the last of the Blackfyres.

Ser Barristan spoke then. “It was an interesting experience. The Golden Company are one of the finest bands of sellswords known to man, and they also know how to command in battle, which is rare for sellswords. Usually they are a mess of men and weapons. Maelys Blackfyre was a brute, with two heads and many arms. He was a hard foe, and he fought well, but he was defeated like any other man.”

Jaime nodded, and went to ask another question, but before he could, Prince Rhaegar spoke. “Thank you very much for your time Sers. I believe it is time we left, to allow you to get ready for the evening feast, and to ensure that we too are ready for the evening feast. Come, Jaime, Eddard.” The Prince got up and walked down the stairs accompanied by Ser Jonothor, Jaime and Ned did the same.

The Prince was silent on the walk back. He dropped them off at Mama and Papa’s rooms and bid them farewell. Ned nodded to Jaime and walked to his own room, leaving Jaime to knock on Mama and Papa’s door. The door opened and Mama was sat on the bed. She smiled when she saw him. “How was it sweetling?”

“We met Ser Barristan and Ser Gwayne of the Kingsguard, Mama. It was really brilliant. We saw the White Sword Tower from the inside and we spoke to them as well. They were very nice and charming like knights from the song!” Jaime gushed.

Mama gestured for him to join him on the bed, and so he did, she kissed the top of his head and asked. “And how was the Prince, sweetling?”

“He was nice, Mama.” Jaime said. The Prince had an air of authority about him, authority, that was the word Ned would use. Jaime pulled back and looked at Mama and said. “When I’m older, I want to join the Kingsguard, Mama.” As he said it, he knew he meant it with all his heart.

 

 


	8. Conceptions Of Truth: Tywin II

The council chamber in the Red Keep was always something that Tywin dreaded sitting in. It was hot and stuffy, no doubt reflecting Aerys desire to show everyone just how much of a dragon he truly was. That was an old argument, one that Tywin had long since acknowledged he would never win. That did not mean however, that he would simply sit down and allow himself to sweat to stink. He always had a window open to allow some of the heat to go out, and whenever the King bothered to attend council meetings, he seemed to allow it to stand.  Which was why Tywin was currently feeling a cool breeze on his neck, it was nice and refreshing, despite the lateness of the hour.

The entire council was present this evening. The King had called for an emergency meeting and had been the first one in the room, just before Tywin. Ser Gerold Hightower, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard was present sat to the King’s left, Tywin was sat to the King’s right.  Then there was Lord Velaryon, the King’s cousin, an ambitious man and one who no doubt hoped to see his son wed to one of the Princesses, he would not have that chance if Tywin had his way. Then there was Lord Staunton, master of laws, but very good at looking the other way when the city watch did some wrong or the other, he was on Tywin’s pay roll, had been for some time. Pycelle as Grand Maester was Tywin’s ally, family as well through some distant cousin. Qarlton Chelstead was Aerys man as master of coin. He was not a lickspittle but he knew his duty and that was good.  Then there was the strange master of whispers. Ser Jacaerys Waters. Tywin did not know the bastard’s origins, no one apart from the King did, and the King kept that secret hidden to his chest, always had done.

The King spoke, and Tywin stopped his musings. “I have summoned you all here because there are three things I wish to discuss. First and foremost is Braavos. The titan is growing restless again. Tell me Chelstead, what was it they had said?”

There was a dangerous note in the King’s voice, and Tywin suspected that whatever it was that had been written to the King, it was not good news. Chelstead hesitated, and Tywin knew his suspicions were right. Eventually, the man spoke, his voice deep and uneasy. “Your Majesty, Braavos is demanding that the repayment of the loans taken out by His Majesty, King Jaehaerys be repaid immediately. Should payment be delayed they will be forced to take immediate and swift action.”

Tywin grimaced, Braavos never knew how to write to the King of the Seven Kingdoms.  He remembered his lessons and how many wars had nearly been started during the short reign of Daeron the Young Dragon because of Braavos’ poor wording. A trend that had continued during the reign of King Aegon the Unworthy and King Maekar.  “They seek to threaten a crowned and anointed King. Have they forgotten what happened the last time they did that?” Tywin remembered, the entire council remembered, they had all been there when Braavos had threatened the King’s grandfather, King Aegon the Fortunate. Braavos had been sacked and burned. “I will not let them push me around, nor will I let them demand things from me. Tell me Chelstead, when does the loan period expire?”

“In five years, Your Majesty.” Chelstead said.

“And how much money is the currently outstanding on the loan?”  the King asked.

“One hundred and fifty thousand dragons. Your Majesty.” Chelstead said.

“And we have, what was it? Three hundred thousand dragons in the treasury? Correct?” The King demanded.

Before Chelstead could answer, Tywin answered. “Yes Your Majesty. To pay off the loan now would mean we have half that amount of money left and therefore not enough to pay for the refurbishment of the roads that had been planned.”

The King looked at him intently, and Tywin felt himself shiver internally, before cursing himself.  The King was not a god he was a man; he was not King Aegon nor was he King Maekar. He was Aerys, Tywin’s childhood friend. The King looked at him and continued looking at him, the silence grew deafening, until eventually the King spoke. “Then I will not repay the loan.”

“I must advise against that Your Majesty.” Tywin said at once. “If you refuse to repay the loan, then the Iron Bank will send its agents for you, and they will not be as kind as the current emissaries have been.” There were rumours about servants of the Iron Bank, the ones who had been formed when the bank had been, who were older than Braavos itself, the rumours were not good ones.

The King did not seem as if he believed Tywin. “You think they would dare send a hired hand to kill a crowned and anointed King?”

Tywin shook his head. “No Your Majesty, they are not foolish enough to do that. But they would send someone to harm Your Majesty’s family. A servant can be disguised as someone, a guard for example. They would go undetected and then slip the blade in.”

The King presses his hands together. “I will not bend to the demands of bankers. I will not allow them to push for something that I cannot give them.”

Tywin was about to offer to pay for the loan amount himself, but then Staunton spoke. “Perhaps Your Majesty need not do anything of the sort. You need not pay the loan back, nor need you declare war.”

Tywin looked at Staunton wondering what the man was getting at, and then it hit him. “What do you mean?” the King asked intrigued.

“Volantis, Lys, Myr and Tyrosh, all of these cities despite Braavos. All of them are Braavos’ biggest traders. Sign an agreement with them, and you cut off Braavos source of income. You cut of the Iron Bank’s hand. Without the money from there, they do not have the money to pay their hired hands.” Staunton said.

It was a smart plan, Tywin had to admit, but there was just one flaw. “You assume that these cities will want to side with His Majesty, with the Seven Kingdoms. They have no reason to.” He gestured at the books before him. “Volantis has only a two percent trade with the seven kingdoms compared to a twenty percent trade with Braavos. Lys has only four percent, whilst Myr has eight. They have not got the incentive to strike a trade deal that harms them more than it does Braavos.”

Staunton was silent a moment, then he said. “And you do not seem to understand the symbolic nature of such a gesture. Yes, they might not want to do it, but when Volantis hears that the city descended from slaves is demanding something of the Blood of Old Valyria how do you think they will react?”

Tywin understood then. That was the one area he had struggled with since the Rains. The symbolic gestures that meant more to bankers and peasants than they did with lords. He looked at the King and saw approval. Quickly he changed his tune. “Say that Volantis agrees, Lys and Myr are sworn enemies of Volantis, and of each other. They might despise Braavos, but they hate each other more. To convince them to side with each other and the throne against the Titan will be a feat unto itself.”

Staunton nodded in agreement. “This is true, but should we get Volantis and Tyrosh on board, then we have significant weight against Braavos and more than enough leverage to force Myr and Lys to think that we might consider weighing in on the Disputed Lands.”

Tywin nodded conceding the point. The King smirked. “It seems we have our solution. Tywin, I want you to write to Volantis and Tyrosh, inform them of what is being done by Braavos and the Iron Bank. Make it clear that they are doing things beyond the bounds of the old treaty, and make sure you include just how loathsome they are being.”

Tywin nodded, and made a note of that. He would need to change the wording, he knew the triarchs of Volantis. They would not take too well to having the King of the Seven Kingdoms demand anything of them, regardless of whether or not he was of Old Valyria. Chelstead then spoke. “Your Majesty, the emissaries from the Iron Bank will be here until the end of the week, waiting for an answer. What should I tell them?”

The King’s smirk grew wider. “You tell them the truth. I will not be paying their bank anything. They do not demand anything from the dragon. You tell them to return to their own city and to handle their master’s displeasure as it was.” There was a brief pause, then the King spoke again. “Ser Jacaerys, tell me, is our source in Braavos still active?”

Ser Jacaerys nodded. “He is, Your Majesty. Active and alert, awaiting command and desperately hoping for a chance at revenge.”

The King nodded. “Very well, I want you to tell him that the time has come. He is to do as he was instructed originally, and to proceed as he was told. When the time is right he will be rewarded.”

Ser Jacaerys nodded, made a note of that and then spoke. “Your Majesty, there is one other thing I wished to speak about.”

The King gestured for the knight to continue. “My sources tell me the Golden Company has made base in Lorath, once more.”

 “What of it?” Lord Lucerys Velaryon said. “There are no more Blackfyres to carry on the work of that traitor Daemon. They have no purpose.”

Ser Jacaerys ignored the Lord of the Driftmark and instead focused on the King. “Your Majesty, my sources tell me that they are working with a cheesemonger and a man known only as the Kindly man, and it seems that they are plotting something. A Blackfyre girl was recently married off, the daughter of Maelys the Monstrous’ cousin Daemon, she married a wealthy Pentoshi noble.”

The King leaned forward intently. “Do you think they mean to take a claim then, and use the girl and her connection to the Golden Company?”

Ser Jacaerys sighed. “I am not sure Your Majesty. The information I have been receiving is mixed and confused. There are signs that they are definitely planning something. This noble the Blackfyre girl married is descended from another of King Aegon the Unworthy’s bastards. And as such the uniting of two such claims either means two things, they are going to try for the throne, or they are going to try for Pentos.”

At this Staunton spoke. “Why would they try for Pentos?”

“Because Pentos has always been in the mind of those who would serve traitors.” Tywin said. “It is a place where opportunity can grow, a place whose economy is growing by three percent every year. There is a fortune to be made in Pentos, and if someone were to rule Pentos, well then they would be very, very rich.”

Ser Jacaerys nodded in agreement. “Lord Tywin is correct. The chances are that this marriage is preceding an attack on Pentos. Should Pentos fall, the balance of power in Western Essos will shift.”

“And then the Braavosi will be the least of our concerns.” The King concluded.

“Exactly, Your Majesty.” Ser Jacaerys said. “My advice would be to send someone after this newly married couple and kill them before they can do anything other than fuck. Should they produce a child, you can guarantee that there will be war in Essos.”

Tywin could tell that the King was torn between wanting to let there be war in Essos, and a genuine fear that war in Essos could destroy his only carefully constructed plans. Eventually, the King sighed. “Very well. Have our men handle this situation as bloodlessly as possible. Or rather as quietly as possible.” Ser Jacaerys nodded.

The King took a deep breath and then said. “Now then, if there is nothing else that anyone wishes to discuss, I think it would be best if we retired for the evening.”

There was a moment of silence, and then Pycelle spoke. “Actually, Your Majesty, there is something I think that needs addressing. It concerns the Citadel.”

Tywin leaned forward then as did Aerys. It was a habit from the days when they were two young men, against the world, the citadel had both fascinated and terrified them. “What is it?” the King asked cautiously, though Tywin knew he was just as excited.

Pycelle brought the letter out of his robes, and not for the first-time Tywin wondered what else was stored within those robes. He unfurled the letter and read aloud. “To Grandmaester Pycelle, we write to you to inform you that there have been surprising developments within the lower levels of the Citadel as of late. Murmurs have reached our ears that two or three maesters are practising things that they should not be. Things which break the King’s peace.”

Tywin chanced a look at the King, and for a moment it was like they were boys again, discussing theories which everyone else dismissed, there was a spark in the King’s eye, but then it was gone. His voice was indifferent. “And what things are these that these men were practising that breaks the peace?”

Here Pycelle hesitates and glances at Tywin. Tywin nods encouraging the man to speak. He needs to know; he needs to know he was right. “Bringing the dead back to life and reciting from books banned under King Baelor.”

 _That ban was overturned by King Maekar._ Tywin thought to himself, judging by the look on the King’s face which disappeared just as quickly as it had appeared, the King had thought the same. The King’s voice was dispassionate when he spoke. “Have these men been apprehended and put into the custody of crown officials?”

Pycelle shifted again. “Ah… they have been remanded in custody by the maesters of the citadel, pursuant to further investigation.”

Tywin did not look at the King, for he did not want his feelings to become obvious, but now he was really getting quite suspicious. The King did not contain his astonishment. “What more is there to investigate? If they committed these crimes, then they must be handed over to crown officials and tried as such. That is the law!”

Pycelle shifted, and turned his hands over and over. “I…I…am aware, Your Majesty. However, the citadel has certain precautions it takes when maesters of noble blood are involved. One of the culprits was the son of Lord Beesbury and the other the bastard son of Lord Bracken. Therefore, it was seen as prudent to allow them a proper investigation.”

 Tywin thought about that for a moment, recalling what he had read as a young boy. The book had mentioned Beesbury and Bracken as being responsible for something, but what it was he could not quite place. The King was not pleased. “I do not care who they are. If they have broken the law, they must be punished by the law. I want you to write to the Citadel and tell them that they are to hand over these two men to the Bailiffs.”

Pycelle nodded, somewhat abashed. “Of course, Your Majesty.” Tywin saw him make a note of that and then he fell silent.

The King nodded seemingly happy with that. “Now then, with that out of the way, I think we can dissolve this meeting. Tywin remain behind, the rest of you may go.”

Tywin sat where he was, to the King’s right, feeling the eyes of the other council members on him as they wondered what it was he had done. Tywin himself had not exact idea, he was not even sure the King wanted to see him about something he had done wrong, for there was no malice in the King’s eyes, there was nothing there, perhaps Aerys had finally learned to keep his expression vacant. Once the last council member was gone and it was just the two of them and Ser Gerold, the King spoke. “Tell me, what do you make of this development?”

Tywin did not need to ask the King what he meant. He took a breath, considered his thoughts and then said. “I think we were right, Your Majesty. I think there is more happening in the Citadel than meets the eye, and I think we might have just found a way to exploit that.”

“So, you agree with me then?” The King asked, unable to contain his excitement. “You believe we should use Beesbury’s boy and Bracken’s son to find out the truth of the undercurrent?”

Tywin nodded. “I do, Your Majesty. I think we would be foolish not to. Pycelle was squirming around whenever this was being talked about. I have not seen him that unnerved since the time we discussed Summerhall in front of him.”

The King’s eyes narrowed. “Can he be trusted?”

“Pycelle?” Tywin thought for a moment and then replied. “As far as I think it suits him yes. Other things must be kept under wraps. He will send that letter, but no doubt he will send others. Warning them.”

The King nodded. “Very well, I trust you will remind him of why it is good to serve the crown, not the citadel.”

Tywin bowed his head. “Of course, Your Majesty.”

The King smiled, and Tywin saw his friend then, the boy Aerys had been before the burden of the crown. “I received a letter from Steffon, he said he would come to court briefly next year.” There was hope in the King’s voice, Aerys voice, and Tywin smiled.

“It would be good to see him.” Tywin admitted.

The King smiled. “I agree. Now go, return to your wife.”

Tywin bowed, and then straightened and walked out of the council chamber. Perhaps things would not be as bad as he had feared.


	9. Girls, Girls, Girls: Joanna II

The great hall and the throne room sparkled with light and life. Loreza and her contingent and Lord Hoster and his contingent had finally come to King’s Landing, after a few weeks of delay. Joanna was happy to have the chance to speak to her old friend again, even if it was the day before she and the children left for the Rock. Loreza glowed in a dress of orange and black, her hair tied in a simple knot, her husband was at her side, dressed in the same colours, he looked handsome, as he always had. The Queen was sat next to Joanna and was dressed in gold and green, and looked beautiful. Rhaella always had looked beautiful and she was smart as well.  The King was sat next to Tywin, discussing something or the other, no doubt the recent controversy involving the citadel.

The Queen’s voice drew her from her musings. “So, tell me Joanna, how are you finding King’s Landing?”

The Queen’s voice was soft, but Joanna could hear the question clear as day. She remembered the reason for her leaving King’s Landing and sighed internally. Externally however, she put a smile on her face and said. “It has been fun. It is nice to have come back once more, to explore the sights of childhood. I hope the children have not caused too much trouble?” She knew that Cersei had been all but attached at the hip to Princess Shaena, whilst Jaime had followed Prince Rhaegar around constantly asking questions.

The Queen chuckled softly. “Oh, not at all. It is nice to have other children in the Red Keep. I know that Rhaegar can sometimes feel somewhat lonely, without another boy to talk with, having two boys, now three has definitely been good for him.”

Joanna nodded, and then seeing that Loreza was listening in as well, she asked. “Loreza, how are you finding King’s Landing?” Loreza had always been the older of the three of them, the more experienced in all sorts of things and the first to get married.

Loreza smiled. “I think it is just as I remember it. Full of intrigue and all sorts of mischief. In short I am very much enjoying it.” there was a brief pause, and then Loreza continued. “And I know that Lord Dayne greatly appreciated Prince Rhaegar asking Arthur to squire alongside him.”

The Queen smiled.  Her mouth crinkling slightly. “That is good. I know Rhaegar likes Arthur, very much and I hope they can become friends.” There was a brief pause, and then the Queen leaned in and conspiringly whispered. “I saw Ser Bonnifer a few days ago.”

Joanna leaned in intrigued, there had been rumours when they were girls that Ser Bonnifer had held a candle for the Queen, but Rhaella had never returned his affections, but she had used them once or twice, to her and the crown’s advantage. It was with some control that Joanna asked. “Did you say anything to him?”

Rhaella shifted, twisting her hands slightly. “Well, I didn’t but he did. He spoke at great length about the folly of youth. I think he might well have been drinking. He was never the most articulate of people.”

Loreza laughed. “Oh that much is true. Do you remember that time during Prince Duncan’s nameday tourney when he and Ser Bonnifer decided to drink each other under the table? Prince Duncan was still standing whilst the good Ser was mumbling about dragons and foxes.”

Joanna giggled and the Queen did as well. “I remember that one well.” Joanna said, that was the tourney where Tywin had first asked her to dance and the sparks had flown.

“Well he apologised about, as well as the fact he took vows of celibacy.” The Queen replied grinning slightly. “He was quite drunk when I saw him.”

Joanna feigned shock, but she had always thought that Ser Bonnifer was too much of a drunk and a flirt to ever truly change his ways, unless he was fighting a battle. “So, did you reply to him?” She asked.

The Queen shook her head, looking slightly sad. “No, but I sent Ser Gwayne to make sure that the knight returned home safely. I could not speak to him. Far too many years have passed and I am not the same girl I was, when last I considered him.”

Joanna nodded, as did Loreza they both understood that. Loreza then said. “I heard some girl or the other talking about Lady Celtigar, apparently, she’s been sleeping with the stablehand.”

“She has.” The Queen said. “Lord Celtigar is an old man who wishes to slip peacefully from this world. His son is an old man as well, and he wants the woman killed, she is not his mother, but was meant to be his bride before his father and the King decided otherwise. Apparently, he wanted to sleep with her himself, and she said no.”

“So that’s why he always looks so angry.” Joanna said. “He always looks as if his sigil has come and grabbed him by the bollocks.” Loreza howled with laughter and the Queen smiled, and for a moment, Joanna felt comfortable, as if she was a girl again, back with the two closest friends she had, and not a care in the world.

“I know that Lady Staunton’s daughter is currently trying to sleep with Lord Velaryon’s son. Something to do with a bet she made with Morena Stokeworth.”  The Queen said.

“Isn’t Lord Velaryon’s son, the one who wants to be nothing more than another Sea Snake come again? What makes Staunton’s daughter think she can ever get him to look at her?” Loreza asked.

Joanna laughed. “You have seen her right, Loreza? She’s possibly the most beautiful young girl at court other than the Princesses. If Velaryon doesn’t see that, then he is blind. And not even the Sea Snake was blind.”

 “I think it might have more to do with the fact that Lord Velaryon wants his son to marry one of my girls. “the Queen said then suddenly forlorn. “That would be a terrible marriage.”

Joanna sensed the concern in the Queen’s voice and placed a comforting hand on the Queen’s hand. “Is Lord Velaryon truly as bad as they make him out to be?”

The Queen sighed. “He is worse. He is family, that is true, but he is more grasping and ambitious than his own father and brother were. I think he suffers from a problem of not being them and therefore he feels the need to make up with it, with all of this anger and scheming.”

Joanna hesitated for a moment, unsure of whether it was her place to ask this question. Then deciding that as a friend of the Queen and a mother, if for no other reason, she said. “Why then would His Majesty, the King keep Velaryon on, if he knows how dangerous the man is?”

The Queen laughed. “Aerys does not care how dangerous Velaryon is. He cares for the fact that Velaryon kisses the ring and ensures that the Royal Fleet is kept in order. So long as he is not siding with anyone else, Aerys is happy. And so Velaryon’s power at court grows, and nothing gets done to check it.”

Joanna thought for a moment, and looked over to where Tywin was now speaking to Grand Maester Pycelle, and she said. “I will speak with Tywin, if anyone can get His Majesty to reconsider his position on Velaryon, it will be Tywin.”

The Queen nodded and then music started, a slow, steady rhythm that was meant to bring people to the floor to dance. The King appeared and took the Queen’s arm, and they began weaving a way across the floor. Joanna sighed for a moment and said to Loreza. “They look happy, don’t they?”

Loreza hummed in agreement. “Oh most definitely. A much better sight than what we saw at their wedding.”

Joanna nodded, the image of a tearful Rhaella, and a very angry Aerys flashed through her mind. It had not been a good day, the King had looked somewhat heartbroken, and Prince Jaehaerys had insisted it happen, despite all common sense saying otherwise. Joanna had never forgiven King Jaehaerys or Queen Shaera for their hypocrisy in forcing their son and daughter to marry one another, when they themselves had married for love. But now, looking at the King and his Queen dancing and laughing, perhaps they had been right to do so, perhaps there were stronger bonds in the Targaryen family than she had first thought.

Eventually, the dancing picked up pace, and it was then that Tywin got off his seat and asked her to dance. They didn’t speak much; they didn’t need to. The dancing and their actions throughout the dance said all they needed to say. They moved as one, perfectly in sync with one another, they and the royal couple danced and weaved through the other dancers. She knew there were people looking at them, but she did not care, the two most powerful creatures in the kingdom were dancing, lions and dragons. It was only right that the others look and take note of this.

She took a break from dancing to escort her children back to their beds. As they walked through the hallways to the children’s rooms, Jaime spoke. “Mama, do we really have to leave tomorrow?”

This was an old discussion, but one which Joanna knew they needed to have. “Yes, sweetling.”

As she expected, Jaime asked. “Why Mama? Are you not going to miss Papa?”

“I will miss Papa, of course, but we must return to the Rock. I am its lady and you are its heir, it cannot go for too long without our presence there. And whilst your uncles are doing a good job, they are not the ones who are going to be ruling it in the future.” Joanna replied.

She knew what Jaime would say before he said it. She held back a laugh when he said solemnly. “It is my duty as heir to the Rock to learn how to rule and how to rule well.” There was a pause and then he looked up at her eagerly. “I’ll still be able to write to Prince Rhaegar won’t I, Mama?”

Joanna looked down at her son and smiled. “Of course, if the Prince has said that you can write to him, then I see no reason for you not to write to him.”

Jaime beamed at her. “I can’t believe Arthur is going to be squiring in King’s Landing with the Prince. Do you think I will be able to squire here when I am older?”

Joanna knew that was part of Tywin’s plan, and so she said. “I am sure something could be arranged, sweetling.”

 They got closer to the twins’ rooms, and Cersei spoke then. “Mama, when we get back to the Rock, what will happen?”

For a moment Joanna was somewhat confused by what her daughter meant, and then she saw that they were indeed in front of the twins’ room, and so she said. “We shall discuss that when we return to the Rock, sweetling.” The door opened for them and she helped her children get into their night clothes and tucked them in. She kissed each of them on the forehead and then whispered. “We shall be leaving early tomorrow morning, so I want you up as soon as the servants enter your room, do you understand?”

Both nodded. “Goodnight Mama.” They said in unison.

“Goodnight sweetlings.” Joanna replied. She walked out of their room, and then walked into Eddard’s room, her foster son was just getting into bed when she entered. “Goodnight Eddard.” She said.

“Goodnight, Lady Joanna.” Eddard said sleepily, Joanna stayed until Eddard’s breathing had evened out, as she knew he wanted her to, even if he did not say, and then she turned and made her way back to the feast. She and Tywin stayed at the feast for another hour and a half, before retiring for the night. The King and Queen were dancing still when they left, and Joanna suspected a child would result from that.

She and Tywin did not speak much as they walked back to their room, nor did they speak when they got changed and into bed. They held one another thought and drifted off into pleasant dreams. It was as if no time has passed before the light of the sun hit her in the morning, forcing her to get up and get changed, Tywin did so as well, despite her protestations.  The children were changed and ready when she went to their rooms, they broke their fast in the dining room of the tower of the hand, in sleepy silence, Eddard reading a book as he ate, then they made their way to where the carriage and the horses were waiting.

As Joanna watched Eddard mount his horse, and Martyn Cassel the boy’s Valet do the same, she turned to Tywin and then to the King and Queen and curtseyed. “Your Majesties, it has been an honour to visit you. Thank you for having us. We would welcome you to Casterly Rock and the Westerlands whenever you wish to visit.”

The King nodded. “Your presence here was a much-needed reprieve for both myself and the Queen. I am happy that our children have gotten on, and I hope they can remain friends throughout the time to come.”

The Queen embraced Joanna then and it was Rhaella who whispered. “Thank you for coming, Joanna. It was lovely to see you. We must not keep it so long until we next see one another.”

Joanna breathed a sigh of relief, knowing that in her words, the Queen had forgiven her, she pulled back and looked at the Queen and smiled. “Of course, Your Majesty. We would love to see you soon.” Quieter she said. “You are welcome to come and visit whenever, Rhaella, truly.”

It was Rhaella who beamed at her, and the Queen who smiled. The King spoke then. “We shall allow you and your husband to have a chance to say farewell, my lady.” With that the King and Queen and their Kingsguard ventured back into the Red Keep, leaving her alone with Tywin apart from their retinue and the carriage and the children.

Tywin kissed her hand and murmured. “I will miss you, my love. But I know you will look after the Rock in my absence and that is what is needed right now. The Rock must be strong at all times, for what is coming, may be enough to destabilise all of Westeros.”

Joanna nodded. “Of course my love, do try and convince Aerys against this course of action. The Seven Kingdoms cannot afford such depravity now, not with so long of peace and the knights of summer in their bloom.”  It was a saying her mother had taken to saying after her father had died, and it was one she felt was very appropriate now.

Tywin smiled. “I will try my best, my love.” He kissed her hand once more and then helped her up into the carriage, he closed the door and remained standing there as the carriage and their retinue made its way down the hill and toward the exit of the city and the Rock.

In the carriage for the first part of the journey the twins stared out of the window, taking in King’s Landing once more, for a final time on this journey. Joanna had a feeling that they would be back to King’s Landing before long, and truthfully if Aerys was planning on going with his mad design that might well be necessary. For a time, there was silence in the carriage, the twins stared outside the window, and then fell asleep, and so Joanna began reading a book about Larra Rogare, the Queen of Viserys the Second. The Queen was a sad sort of lady, in love with a boy half her age, and in a foreign land. She buried herself in her children until that no longer became enough then she left. She died alone and broken, never seeing her husband or children again.

They left King’s Landing and still the children slept, as they came into sight of the Blackwater Rush, Joanna found herself dropping off to sleep as well. She dreamt of nothing, and she was not sure how long it had been before she woke up to the sounds of their retinue coming to a stop.  They were refreshing themselves, Joanna woke the twins up and led them to relieve themselves, before they ate some food, and then boarded the carriage again, the journey continued. Jaime fell back to sleep immediately, but Cersei stared outside the window an intrigued look on her face. They did not speak, but Cersei eventually fell asleep once more. At one point Eddard joined them in the carriage and he and Jaime spoke about King’s Landing and the tourney and the Kingsguard. Joanna smiled as she watched the exchange, happy that Eddard was becoming freer around them.

After about a week they made it to the Blackwater Inn, they stayed there for a day or two, eating and stretching their legs, before they got back into the carriage and continued travelling. It was another four days before they made it to Deep Den and when the solid structure came into sight, Jaime gasped and said. “We’re nearly home, Mama!” Joanna smiled and they continued the taste of home was on her mouth, they were not far. Four days later they arrived in Lannisport, a mere hour later they were getting out of the carriage and ascending into the heart of the Rock, Jaime and Cersei were bouncing on their feet as they made their way up, Eddard was silent, but his eyes betrayed his happiness to be back.

 When they got out and entered the main hall, Jaime and Cersei bounded to their uncle Gerion and embraced him. Ser Kevan bowed before her and said. “The Rock is yours, my lady.”

Joanna smiled and said. “Thank you Ser Kevan, I relieve you of your duties.”

 


	10. Celebrations: Ned III

****

Ned woke up, the sun was shining through the curtains. For a brief moment, there was a sense of uncertainty in him as he struggled to remember what had caused him to cry last night, then he remembered. It was his nameday today, he was ten summers old, and he was not in Winterfell. Ned knew it was silly, but that was quite upsetting, he missed his father, and Lya and Benjen, and even Brandon. He knew what would’ve happened had he been at Winterfell, there would have been a feast for breakfast, then Father would have taken him out for a ride of the fields and lands around Winterfell, and they would have shared stories and jokes until it was time for lessons. From there Ned would get to choose whatever he wanted to learn about.  Then there would be lunch and Lya would sing to them, and then they’d get the rest of the day off.

There was an ache in his chest as he thought about that. Ned knew it was silly to expect the same thing here at the Rock. There were thousands of things that Lady Joanna needed to do, and she probably didn’t even know it was his nameday. It wasn’t like he’d told her or anyone for that matter. Still, the ache in his chest didn’t go away. Deciding he didn’t want to think about this for too long, Ned got up and walked over to the bathroom.  The servants were filling the tub with water when he opened the door. He nodded to them and took off his clothes.  Ned put one hand on the side of the tub and helped himself into it. He stood for a moment feeling the warm water lap at his feet, and then he slowly lowered himself into the tub properly.

As the warmth from the water enveloped him, Ned let out a sigh. The past few moons had been very good. Since coming back from King’s Landing he’d learned a lot. Ned now knew more about Essos than he thought he might otherwise have learned. He also knew his way around some of the smaller passageways of the Rock thanks to Jaime and Cersei. Cersei no longer seemed too awkward around him as she had been before. He felt at home at Rock. And whilst he had written to his father and to Lya, he did not usually miss them as much as he used to. Today was an exception. The thought of what his father and Lya would be doing today, to celebrate a nameday for someone who was not there, forced him to sigh again. The ache was back with a vengeance. He rubbed some soap over himself, took some water and poured it over himself, before deciding to get out of the tub.

Ned stood up, took a towel from one of the servants and began towelling the water off his body. He took another breath and then wrapped the towel around himself and stepped out of the tub. He nodded his thanks to the servants and walked toward the door that would lead him back to his and Jaime’s room. He stood in front of it for a moment, his hand on the door knob, he could hear Jaime moving around in the room, and he wondered briefly if his foster brother knew that today was Ned’s nameday. Ned doubted it, his foster brother would only have remembered if Ned had told him, and as Ned had not told him, to expect him to know was foolish. And Ned was not foolish.  He shook his head again, and turned the door knob, as the door moved he walked through the doorway and into the room.

Jaime was dressed in a green doublet and plain breeches. He smiled as he saw Ned and said. “I think we might miss breakfast, Ned!”

Ned took the hint, he knew how much his foster brother liked breakfast, and so he moved to the cupboard where his clothes were and chose a grey double with trimmings of red on the edges, as well as an undershirt that was red in nature. He wore plain breeches as well. Once he was dressed, he nodded to Jaime and they walked out of their room to the great hall where breakfast was served. As they walked, Jaime was oddly silent and Ned was somewhat unnerved by it, but decided to ignore it for now. They got the great hall, to find it slightly empty, there were a few guardsmen who were there eating breakfast, but it seemed most everyone had already been, or had not yet woken. Ned sighed, took his place to Jaime’s right and ate quietly. A simple fair of beans and bread. He ate and then had some juice, before putting his plate away from himself. He waited for Jaime to finish eating then he got up and walked back to their room, where he brushed his teeth and then stopped and stood looking at himself in the mirror.

The ache was still there, he missed his father and his brother and sister. He missed them terribly so, and he was not sure how to fix that. He didn’t want to go back to Winterfell, he liked it here, the people were nice and kind, and he liked Jaime and Cersei. Still he missed his family in the north. He took a breath, ran his hand through his hair and turned and walked out of his and Jaime’s room-Jaime had already gone for reading with Lady Joanna- and made his way to Maester Creylen’s rooms. When he got there, he knocked and entered when bid to do so. Maester Creylen was a young man, perhaps as old as Lord Tywin himself, he smiled at Ned and bid him sit down, and so Ned did so. There was a moment of silence and then the maester spoke. “Today, we will explore a topic you had mentioned once before as being of interest to you, Master Eddard. We will look at the reign of Daeron the Good, or more specifically his early reign.”

That surprised Eddard. “I thought you said we would be continuing with the lessons on advanced herbal medicines?” Not that he was complaining herbal medicine lessons were sleep worthy.

Maester Creylen smiled at him. “Those lessons may continue another day. For today, we shall be looking at the early reign of Daeron the Good and how he managed to balance everything that came with being a son of Aegon the Unworthy. Tell me Eddard, what do you know about Daeron the Good?”

Eddard smiled then. He had read a lot about Daeron the Good when he was in Winterfell, and therefore found it easy enough to say. “He was born in the one hundred and fifty-third year after Aegon’s Conquest, the only son of Prince Aegon and Princess Naerys. He was named after Daeron the Young Dragon. As a child, he showed more of an interest in books and learning than in war. Something that greatly worried his warrior father, Prince Aegon. For Prince Aegon according to Munkun thought that for a Prince of the Blood, to be truly respected, they need to be good with arms. Prince Daeron was not good with arms, he could not really defend himself, but he was smart and quick witted, able to hold a conversation with the noted scholars of the time from the time he was ten.”

Creylen nodded. “And what about as he got older?”

Eddard felt his smile widen. “As a young boy he was betrothed to Princess Mariah of Dorne, this was arranged by his cousin King Baelor the Beloved, to ensure that there was peace with Dorne after the Conquest had led to many men dying.” He paused for a moment and then said. “Princess Mariah came to King’s Landing when she was sixteen and she married Prince Daeron in the one hundred and sixty-ninth year after the conquest of Westeros. During that time Prince Daeron grew into a more learned and cultured man compared to his father, Prince Aegon. Where Prince Aegon drank, and wasted time on the jousting field, Prince Daeron devoted himself to learning and studying.”

“And why do you think he spent so much time learning and studying? After all, it is not as if he was ever to become King, surely? His cousin King Baelor was young and married.” Maester Creylen said.

Ned smirked slightly, this was an obvious answer. “King Baelor was married, this is true, but he had not consummated his marriage, and he had locked his wife and her sisters in the Maidenvault of the Red Keep, to prevent them from tempting him into sleeping with them. He feared for his soul, and despite the pleas of his court, he resisted the urge to consummate the marriage.” Ned had read that in a book in Winterfell, and had blushed when he had asked Brandon what consummating meant. Thinking about Brandon meat him ache with loneliness though, so he quickly stopped. And returned to the matter at hand. “Prince Daeron was expected to inherit the throne by everyone. Prince Viserys, his grandfather was Hand of the King to King Baelor and a healthy man who got along with his grandson. Therefore, it was expected that if the line of King Baelor failed then the line of Prince Viserys had to continue.”

Maester Creylen nodded. “And when Baelor died, Viserys ascended the throne and reign but a short while before the long and troubled reign of King Aegon the Fourth began. This King was one who gave into his every urge and lust. Doing nothing to stop the constant carnage that his whims affected onto the people, he was meant to protect. Prince Daeron became the symbol of opposition to his father and many who could not stand the King and his whims rallied to the Prince. King Aegon died a fat and broken man, wanting war, and getting nothing. Now, when Prince Daeron became King Daeron what did he do?”

Ned thought about this for a moment and then said. “He was crowned King in King’s Landing and immediately summoned the small council as any smart person would do. Then he ordered his father’s ministers dismissed, because he did not wish for their corruption to taint his reign. He also purged the court of many of the hangers on that drifted to his father’s court as well.”

“Why do you think he did that?” Maester Creylen asked.

Ned stopped and thought for a long moment, he remembered being quite surprised when he had read that bit in Winterfell, and not getting a decent explanation from Father. He hesitated. “I think he did it because he did not want to be associated with his father.” After reading about King Aegon the Fourth, Ned could not blame him for that.

“Do you think he was wise to do so? The councillors who had served King Aegon had kept the realm afloat and making money throughout the King’s binges and lusts. They did nothing wrong. Was it right that the Prince take his anger and frustration with his father out on them?” Maester Creylen asked.

Ned thought about the question for a moment, he was not sure. The councillors were tainted by their association with an unworthy King, but at the same time they did not encourage the King’s lusts and ways, as far as Ned could tell, but they did not stop him either. “I think that perhaps he did not need to remove all of the councillors and court members. Perhaps he could have kept some of them.”

“But then would that not have made things worse, as his father’s advisors might have started muttering against him?” Creylen asked.

“They could have muttered against him, but they would not have been able to do anything about it. Prince Daeron became King the moment his father died, his word became law. To go against it, would have been treason.” Ned said firmly.

Creylen was smiling and Ned was not sure why. “And there you have the problem of King Daeron’s early reign.”

Ned raised an eyebrow, not sure he understood. “What do you mean?”

Maester Creylen chuckled. “King Daeron was so determined to differentiate himself from his father, to ensure that nobody would ever mistake him for his father, that he did the thing that he was taught never to do. He threw out the old, and never thought if the new would be better placed to change it. He did it all at once, and shook the core of the Kingdoms. Those who were willing to give the new King a change, despite his preference for Dorne and Dornish ways, were angered by that, and so they plotted and planned. They were determined to right an imbalance they felt had been created.”

Creylen stopped speaking then and looked at Ned intently. Ned thought over what the maester had said and then said. “So, in his haste to be different and new, he made the hole that would consume him and every other King that succeeded him until the reign of King Jaehaerys?”

Creylen nodded. “Exactly.”

There was a knock on the door then, and when it opened, Martyn Cassel was standing there. “I have come to take Master Eddard to lunch in the great hall, per Lady Joanna’s request.”

Eddard was surprised, he did not think lunch had come so quickly, he looked over to Maester Creylen and saw that the man was smiling. “Very well, you may go, Eddard. I shall see you shortly.”

Surprised, Ned stood up, nodded to the maester, turned and then walked out of the room, Martyn trailing behind him. They walked in silence, Martyn was not one for talking too much, that was more Jory’s duty, and Jory was with Jaime, learning to read and write properly. They walked through another set of doors and then another before coming to the Great Hall, when he entered the hall went silent, and then somewhere, a lady started singing. “Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear Eddard, happy birthday to you.” The hall was full, he realised that now, everyone was there, Lady Joanna was standing before him with a giant cake, with a direwolf on it and his name written on it, there were ten candles on the take as well. Jaime and Cersei were stood behind their mother beaming, Ned felt something in his throat well up. Lady Joanna smiled at him. “You didn’t think we’d forgotten, did you?”

Ned didn’t know what to say, he did not think he could speak, there were tears forming in the corners of his eyes. He took a breath, a shuddering one and smiled. Then he looked at the cake, and took another breath before blowing the candles out. A huge cheer followed that, and Lady Joanna turned and walked to the great dining table, where the cake was placed. A knife was produced, and Ned who had followed her not quite believing what was happening was given the knife and slowly cut out a piece of cake, which he ate. It tasted nice, of sweetness and lemon as well. He smiled and then cut a piece of cake for Jaime and a piece for Cersei. “We got you presents as well!” Jaime said, beaming. Ned realised then that they had all known, and he wondered how they had known.

Ned was left speechless when Jaime pressed a book into his hands. He looked at it and found that it was a book he had been wanting ever since his mother had died. _The Tales of Rodrik Stark, the Wandering Wolf and His Family._ Ned felt a lump form in his throat, his Mother had told him about this book, and had said she would give it to him when he turned ten, but she had not lived long enough for that. He looked at Jaime and smiled in thanks. Cersei gave him an brush, with lion and direwolf entwined and smiled. “For your hair.” She giggled and Ned laughed, she often joked that his hair was wild.

He was given a small sword by Martyn Cassel, a book by Jory, a cloak of gold and silver by Ser Kevan, a cup of gold by Ser Gerion, and a book about the Rock by Ser Tygett as well. The cake was slowly disappearing as well, as more and more people came to take a slice and to eat and be merry. Ned felt that if he spoke he might cry, he had not expected this. He had thought he might need to mention it later, at the end of the day, but now, in the here and present, he did not much mind.

Finally, Lady Joanna gave him her gift, it was a letter, and as he read it he felt tears truly from in his eyes.

_Dear Eddard,_

_Happy nameday, thank you for being such a kind and caring young man.  Thank you for being a big brother to Jaime and Cersei. Thank you for being you._

_We love you very, very much._

_Love_

_Lord Tywin and Lady Joanna._

Ned read the letter again, and then put it down. He looked at Lady Joanna and smiled, tears blurring his vision slightly. “Thank you, Lady Joanna, thank you so much.”

Lady Joanna held out her arms and he buried himself in her hug, crying softly. “It’s quite alright, Eddard. You are family, you will always be family. I love you like a son.”

Ned sniffled slightly, embarrassed by his crying, but also, relieved that he was not being chastised for it. He nodded and whispered. “Thank you. I love you too, Mother.”

They pulled apart then and Ned teased Jaime for having cake in his hair, and promised to read the books he had been given and share the knowledge he had learned, but this time he did so with a smile on his face, his heart full to bursting. He was happy, so very happy, this was the best nameday ever.


	11. Inglorious: Rickard I

There was something to be said about sending your two eldest sons to foster. Rickard had wanted to foster when he was a child, to get away from the oppressiveness of Winterfell under his father, to get away and to be free.  But as the only child of Edwyle Stark and Marna Locke, that was a luxury that had not been afforded to him, and so he had remained in Winterfell, whilst his cousins had gone and done great things in the rest of the north. When he had held Brandon in his arms, after his son had just been born, Rickard had promised himself that his firstborn would not suffer the oppressiveness of Winterfell, and so he had agreed a deal with Lord Tristram Dustin, and Brandon had been fostering with the Dustins since was six namedays old. Eddard, his second son had been sent to the Rock in order to get some exposure to the southerners and their ways. When the time came, Eddard would be the guiding hand behind his brother, for Rickard was no fool, Brandon was too hot headed, too callous to be able to hold the north and develop it without help. Benjen and Lyanna were just the spares, who would benefit their brothers through the marriages and skills they learned remaining at Winterfell. That much Rickard was sure of.

The lords of the north had not always abided by what it was he had done and stood for, and therefore long ago he had learned to impart a detailed and well paid spy network across the kingdom, so that he might know exactly what was being said and by who. He would not suffer the same fate as his ancestors. That was why Rickard had asked Maester Walys to meet with him. The maester of Winterfell was a plump man, the bastard of some Hightower and a whore of Oldtown, he was plump and jovial, but also incredibly smart. Therefore, he was valuable, if he was not smart, Rickard would have had him killed years ago, especially when he learned that Walys frequented a brothel in Winter Town. Rickard took a deep breath and then looked at the maester, who was stood before him. “What word have you brought from our sources?”

A brief silence and then the maester spoke. “Lord Umber is arguing with the Mountain Clans, specifically the Norreys. I believe it has something to do with the borders between their lands. Umber believes it spans from the Crow’s Den to the Maiden’s Rook, whilst Norrey believes that the border lies between Crow’s Den and the Giant’s Lance.”

Rickard wished he could have groaned at that. Umber and Norrey quarrelling about the border between their lands was an argument as old as the wall itself, he was certain of it. Still, he gestured for Walys to bring out the map, and once it was unfurled before him on the table he looked at it in detail. “The markings on this map, how old are they?”

“Roughly twenty years old, my lord. Lord Edwyle was the one made them the last time this quarrel erupted.” Maester Walys said.

Rickard nodded, considering the information. His father had spent a lot of time travelling the north, making sure his own will had been done. It was something Rickard had followed and done as well, but still Norrey and Umber continued to argue. “The treaty that Lords Norrey and Umber’s fathers signed when this problem last arose, do you still have them in your collection?” The maester was a strange one in that he kept collections of copies of treaties, the actual things were stored in the Old Castle.

Rickard was unsurprised when Walys nodded. “I do, my lord.”

“Good, send a letter to both Norrey and Umber, inviting them to Winterfell to settle this dispute.” Rickard said. He looked down at the map again and sighed. “The border is between Crow’s Den and the Loch of Souls. Nothing further than that, otherwise you get onto Wull territory.” He could already hear the roars of protest coming from both men. The Loch of Souls was not very far from the Crow’s Den; in fact, it was about a mile to the south of it. No doubt both men would claim he was being unfair to them both, but it was the only reasonably solution he could come up with.

After a moment’s pause, Maester Walys spoke once more. “There are also reports that Lord Ryswell has been expanding southwards, at a rate that the Flints are finding incredibly alarming. Though they themselves have been expanding westward, to the point where the Glovers are growing concerned.”

Rickard took a deep breath. He had expected that from Ryswell, no doubt the fool thought that the fact that Brandon was good friends with his sons meant he could get away with breaking the laws of the land. As for the Flints, well they were idiots, who were useful puppets in antagonising the Ryswells. “Send word to our man within the Flint camp, tell him to remind Lord Flint of the bargain he struck, and that should he go passed that bargain there will be consequences.” Maester Walys nodded, and Rickard grimaced slightly. He knew just how unpleasant that was going to be, the screams had not died down from the last time still.

“Lord Ryswell has also been meeting with members of the Guild of Bankers from the Vale, my lord. He claims it is so that they might give him a loan to redevelop Castle Ryswell, but the sources we have there give a contrary claim.” Maester Walys said.

“And what claim do they give?” Rickard asked.

“They say that he is planning on taking huge loans from the Guild of Bankers to buy out the Flints and the Glovers and take over their holdings, and then when that is done he plans on marching toward Barrowton to take that over as well.” Maester Walys said.

The way Walys phrased it, Rickard knew that the man thought he’d be surprised by this. But Rickard had known Lord Ryswell for most of his life, he knew how the man thought and operated, and so he was completely unsurprised. “I see. Add on a note for our sources in the Rills, tell them to keep an eye on anyone who dresses in the clothes and riches of the south. They will know what to do then.”

Maester Walys nodded. “Lords Karstark and Bolton have been meeting fairly regularly as well my lord. No doubt discussing something to do with the construction of the damn at the Last River. Both lords seem to think that their prerogatives are being impeded with the construction of the damn, and they are doing their best to discreetly rally the peasantry to support against it.”

“And of course our agents are doing everything they can to thwart their attempts to prevent a good thing from happening.” Rickard said, it was not a question.

Walys bowed his head. “Of course my lord. They are doing everything in their power to make sure that the peasantry remains on board with the construction and to ensure that they get a fully informed view of the benefits and costs of its construction.”

“Good. I will not allow the short sightedness of my lords hinder the progress that the north can make. We have potential, now all we need to do is ensure that it is tapped into and used properly. Otherwise we shall be struggling more than we can possibly imagine.” Rickard replied.

As expected Walys took the bait and asked. “You think that things will be moving quicker in the south than we might like them to?”

“Yes. I received word from Tywin as you know, he told me that the tourney had gone very well, but that there were some amongst the contingent in Loreza’s party who were unhappy with what was being proposed.” Rickard said, the backwardness of some of the lords really was starting to annoy him.

Maester Walys hesitated then, Rickard could see it in the way his hands began to touch his chain and then go still. Eventually, the man spoke. “My lord, not to speak out of turn, but do you think that perhaps the time has come to slow the plans down somewhat. The King is being very receptive, he agreed with the proposal of issuing a trade barrier against Braavos rather than going to war with them. He has become ever more receptive to Lord Tywin’s suggestions, and the influence of Velaryon is falling. Perhaps it would be best to ensure that we do not stray too far.”

Rickard said nothing for a time, he allowed himself to think through what Walys had said. Aerys was a changeable man, that much had been clear from the moment Rickard had first met him all those years ago, before Summerhall. The King had grand plans and ideas, but never the patience to truly sit down and implement them. That was why Rickard and Tywin had begun the process, they both suspected that if they laid the ground work, and showed the King that there was an appetite for it, that he would then take it himself and work with it. If they slowed down now, then who knew how much of their work would be undone. “If we slow down now, there is nothing preventing Jon Arryn and Luthor Tyrell from banding together and creating something that will damage our ability to change anything. You know just as well as I do that Jon Arryn is not a man to be messed with if he has the advantage. Right now, he is working on the back foot, and I intend to keep it that way.”

Maester Walys lowered his head in acceptance and then said. “On that note then my lord. I feel that it is pertinent to inform you that Lord Blackwood has been arguing with Lord Bracken and is planning on using your connection to him to suggest why Bracken should surrender the right to the Teats to him.”

Rickard snorted. “He means to make me summon my men to fight for him in some battle that will continue until the end of time. I think not. I expect that Ser Brynden will be mentioning that when he meets with me?” Brynden Tully, the Blackfish, a good friend of Rickard’s but a pain in the arse when talking on business for his brother.

“I believe so. Lord Hoster is most desperate for the fighting between Bracken and Blackwood to stop, and from what I can gather he is leaning toward Blackwood succeeding in his quarrel right now.” Maester Walys said.

“That does not surprise me. Blackwood is his goodbrother through their marriages to the Whents. No doubt they will try and get something out of me, so that Hoster does not lose face should I have to get involved.” Rickard stated. He was not looking forward to that, he despised the Riverlands, it was hot and filled with lords who acted like children, but for what he had planned they were necessary.

“Ser Brynden has also come with a portrait of the Lady Catelyn. It would appear that Lord Hoster took your casual interest on behalf of Master Brandon very seriously.” Maester Walys said, a hint of amusement in his voice.

Rickard snorted. “Of course he did. Hoster is so desperate to be protected when the war comes that he would barter his children in one fell swoop if he could. No doubt Ser Brynden will also have something to say about that.” Rickard knew very well how protective Ser Brynden was about his family, he had a scar above his right eye to prove it.

Maester Walys nodded. “Of course, my lord.” A pause and then he asked. “Shall I bring Ser Brynden in now, my lord?”

Rickard nodded. “Yes, go ahead, we might as well get this over and done with.” Maester Walys bowed and walked out of the room, he returned shortly with a broad chested man with an auburn beard and auburn hair, who carried himself like a warrior. Rickard stood and shook the man’s hand. “Ser Brynden, it is good to see you again, after so many years, old friend.”

Ser Brynden nodded. “You as well my lord.”

Rickard sat back down and Ser Brynden remained standing. “So, what is it that you have come to speak to me about? I take it that your brother is not thinking of backing away from what we have planned?” It was a feint, he knew Hoster, knew that the man was far too proud and clever to back away from something like this.

Ser Brynden shook his head. “No, my lord. Hoster is not thinking of standing down from what you have planned. But he does have some concerns about how things shall be carried out, and that is what he has sent me here to talk about.” Ser Brynden paused for a moment and then continued. “I am sure that you know about the findings of the questionable practices within the Citadel last year.” Rickard nodded, and Ser Brynden continued. “Well, Hoster has used his sources within the citadel to find out more. It appears that Grand Maester Pycelle has been involved in something of a cover up of these things.”

Rickard raised an eyebrow, he had heard rumours, but nothing so bold as this. “Your brother is sure of this?”

“Yes. We have reliable sources within the citadel, who have found written evidence that Pycelle has been aware of these goings on within the Citadel for some time, and has actively worked to cover them up. To prevent them from being leaked to the King and the Hand.” Ser Brynden stated.

Rickard felt slightly sick as he digested this information. “And what is it your brother wishes for us to do about this information?” Rickard suspected he knew what was going to be said next, but he needed to hear it himself.

“Hoster wishes for Pycelle to be removed from the position of chief councillor to the Hand of the King. And he wants another man put in charge of reading through correspondence of everything to do with what it is you are planning.” Ser Brynden replied.

Rickard considered the man before him, considered what he had said. This would be difficult to achieve, Tywin believed in Pycelle, believed that the man was working for him and their interests, but there was something else there. A hint of doubt in Ser Brynden’s voice, that might well be the way to play this. Very carefully, he said. “I will write to Tywin and see what can be done. But your brother must bear in mind that Pycelle is Lord Tywin’s most trusted confidant in King’s Landing and to find someone who could easily replace him and be trusted immediately will be very difficult.”

As expected, Ser Brynden produced a piece of paper and handed it to Rickard. As Rickard read through the paper, Ser Brynden spoke. “That is a list of all the potential replacements for Pycelle that my brother thinks can be trusted.”

Rickard read through the paper, and then folded it. “Has a similar list been sent to Lord Tywin?”

“Yes.” Ser Brynden said. “My brother wishes for things to be as smooth as possible, but there are concerns, justifiable concerns in light of what has been discovered about Pycelle, that he might be more compromised than we had thought.”

Rickard waved a hand to show he recognised that. He took a moment to think and then said. “These candidates your brother has recommended, how thoroughly have they been tested for their ability to remain loyal and withstand all kinds of questioning?” That was important, if there was even a slither of doubt then they could not be used. Rickard would not endanger the mission.

Ser Brynden smiled. “Very thoroughly tested, my lord. Hoster has left no stone unturned to find out who can and cannot be trusted beyond the measures of Riverrun.”

Rickard nodded. “Very well then, I shall take a deeper look at this list and then I shall make my recommendations accordingly.” He paused for a moment and then said. “Now, about this business with the Brackens and the Blackwoods, what exactly is it that your brother expects me to do?”

“Nothing, my lord. Hoster wants you to not get involved. Of course, if you feel that you have no choice but to get involved, then Hoster will recognise that, but he would prefer it if you did not.” Ser Brynden said.

Rickard was surprised by this, he had thought that Hoster being Hoster would want some help, dealing with two of his most troublesome bannermen, but clearly he had misjudged things. Keeping his face a blank mask, he replied. “Very well. I do not intend to get involved. Blackwood might be my cousin, but I have not met the man for many years, and whatever quarrel he has with Bracken is not mine to fix.”  

Ser Brynden nodded his acceptance. “A wise policy to have, my lord.” There was silence for a few moments and then Ser Brynden added. “I have brought a portrait of my niece, Lady Catelyn, as per your request. She is a fine young lady, and is learning all she can about the north.”

Rickard smiled. “That is good, and I can assure you that Brandon is learning about Riverrun and the proud history of House Tully as well, to ensure that he knows more about his betrothed.” That was a lie, Rickard knew for a fact that Brandon had not bothered reading anything that Rickard had asked him to read, and truth be told he was not all that surprised. His eldest son was not one for reading.

Ser Brynden smiled as well. “Very well, if you may excuse me my lord, it has been a long day, and I would like some rest.”

Rickard gestured for the man to go and said. “Of course, Ser.”

 

 


	12. Shut Up And Dance: Joanna III

It was bloody hot today. Summer had decided to make its presence felt and as such Joanna had ordered the servants to constantly rotate fan waving duties as well as for the windows to all be open. Still she was sweating as were the children, they were drinking lots of cold water and other cold drinks. Joanna shrugged slightly and felt a bead of sweat drop down her skin. She stood up and walked out of her room, passed servants who looked how she felt, she nodded to them and continued on her way. There was no need to stop, she knew what needed to be done and she was determined to see it done.

Her boys were going to King’s Landing in a week’s time and whilst they were both very excited, Joanna knew they were nervous, Jaime because it would be the first time that he’d be away from his mother, and Eddard because he did not know how to dance. To reassure both boys she had decided that she would teach them how to dance the dances they’d be expected to dance at court. As Cersei was feeling quite jealous about not being able to go, Joanna had agreed to let her attend the lesson as well. Joanna smiled as she came to the ballroom where she saw Eddard stumbling slightly over his feet as he tried to guide Cersei through a dance.

She coughed lightly and the children straightened. Joanna felt her lips quirk upwards. “Children, I am glad to see that you are already practising.” She moved into the room properly, and came to stand in the centre of the room, in front of the children. Joanna took a breath. “Now there are three main dances that are danced in King’s Landing. They are the Dragon’s Jig, the Stag’s Waltz and the Lion’s Shuffle. They are all fairly easy dances to learn and to do, but you must learn the correct forms before you go off to King’s Landing. Do you understand?”

The children nodded, and Jaime asked. “Why is it that the jig is called the Dragon’s Jig, Mama?”

Joanna smiled. “Because Queen Alysanne the Good was the one who invented it to commemorate her wedding to her brother King Jaehaerys.”

Jaime nodded. Joanna spoke once more. “Now, which dance would you like to learn first?”

Unanimously the children said. “The Dragon’s Jig!”

Joanna hid a laugh behind her hand, it was a good choice and would be an easy one to start with. “Very well. Eddard, would you come forward please.” Eddard looked quite surprised at being chosen but walked forward to stand before her. “Good, now we bow.” She bowed as did Eddard. “Now turn to your side.” Eddard turned and she turned. “Extend your right hand.” The boy did so, and Joanna placed her left hand in his. “Now we move three steps forward, hop and then walk back two steps.” They moved, Eddard was good at this, they hopped, and then walked back. “Now we turn to face one another.” Joanna could see nervousness in her foster son’s eyes and she smiled softly to reassure him. “Now raise your hand and twirl me.” Her foster son did so, and though she was slightly taller than him it wasn’t too bad. He smiled in relief when she came back to her original position unharmed. “Now that is the Dragon’s jig. The music will be quite fast when you perform this dance so you need to be in time. Damon!” She called, and her cousin came out with the band. “Start the music.” Her cousin obliged starting a upbeat jig. Joanna turned to Eddard and said. “Now take a breath, and let us begin.” They moved calmly, though she could tell there were times when Eddard was slightly nervous, he managed well enough, and where he stumbled, Joanna was there to guide him properly. They danced three times before Joanna signalled for the music to stop. “Very good Eddard, you’re a natural.” Her foster son blushed at that. “Now, do you want to try Jaime?”

Her son nodded enthusiastically. “Yes please, Mama!”

Joanna grinned at her son, took his hands in hers and began the dance to the sound of music. Jaime was slightly clumsy, once or twice he stood on her toes, but the longer they practised the better he got, and he was never disheartened by the fact that he didn’t get it right the first time. He smiled and laughed, and Joanna smiled and laughed alongside him, glad to see her boy having so much fun. Eventually she stopped dancing with Jaime, and took a turn with Cersei, as expected her daughter was perfect at the dance. After three goes with Cersei, Joanna called a halt to the dance. All of them were sweating slightly, despite the open windows.

“Now, the next dance is the Stag’s Waltz. This dance is a quick one as well, but not as quick as the Dragon’s Jig. Jaime, could you come here?” Joanna stated. Her son came and stood next to her, looking up at her eagerly. “Now, we bow before one another.” they bowed and then straightened. “Take both our hands and place them in each other’s.” they did so. “Now when the music starts we move to the left two steps, and stamp our feet, and then back to our starting position, then we move out from one another and then move back in and repeat.” They followed what she said once, and Jaime giggled when he accidentally stood on her toe. She smiled and then said. “Again.” They did it a second time and this time it was better. “Now, with the music.” The beat came in quickly, a groove that had always made Joanna’s heart quicken. Jaime kept pace with her, his enthusiasm contagious. They moved and swayed through the hall once, twice, thrice, a fourth time and then Joanna called a halt. “Very good, Jaime. Eddard, do you wish to have a go?”

There was a slight delay before Eddard nodded his head. He stepped forward and locked hands with her. Slowly they followed the routine without music, Eddard stepped on her toes a few times, and she could feel the sweat on his palms. “Just relax Eddard, take a deep breath and relax.” She said, after a minute or so, she felt the tension in him ease and they finally got the hang of the dance without music. She took a quick glance at Eddard, saw that he was smiling and then searched the room for Damon, when she found him she nodded and the music started. A quick tempo, filled with energy and memories of her youth. They moved in and out and side to side, gliding and glancing around one another, once he had relaxed Eddard was a good dancer, the few times he seemed to think too much he stepped on her toes, but she brushed the slight pain off with a smile. They danced a few times, and then Joanna signalled for the music to stop. Eddard smiled shyly, and moved off to the side to stand next to Jaime, Cersei came forward and Joanna danced with her daughter, once again her daughter was a natural, smooth flowing and graceful. Joanna felt proud dancing with her daughter and briefly wished that she could keep her children at this age forever, and to not send two of her boys off to King’s Landing.

The music stopped and Joanna gave up her idle thoughts. Cersei stayed with her though, because this dance required two girls and two boys. She gestured for the boys to come forward, which they did slightly reluctantly. “Now, this dance is called the Lion’s Shuffle. It was invented by Lord Tygett Lannister to ease the homesickness of his wife Vaella Targaryen. It involves two boys and two girls linking arms and moving one step forward and then one step back, before spinning around the hall, and then repeating the initial moves. The music here is slightly fast, and slightly slow. Do you think you can manage?”

“Yes!” All three children said in unison. Joanna laughed.

“Very well then.” They linked hands, and tried the movements without music, there was a slight mess up toward the bit where they would spin around, Eddard mistimed his spin and ended up falling, followed shortly by Cersei. Cersei giggled and so did Eddard, they got back up and tried again, this time Jaime fell and Joanna felt herself fall as well. Jaime giggled and Joanna smiled. Eventually, they picked themselves up off the floor and linked hands again, they moved forward, backward, forward again, and then they turned. This time none of them fell, and Cersei cheered, and Jaime giggled, Eddard smiled, Joanna felt her heart grow full. They tried it again and got it right, a third time, Eddard missed his step, and fell over before getting up and carrying on.  The music came in, first the mandolin, then the strings and Joanna was taken back to her childhood growing up in King’s Landing and the Rock. Dancing with Tywin and Aerys and Steffon, enjoying the feeling of being loved and loving in return. The boys she had known had grown up into men, one who ruled the realm, the other who reigned and the third, well Steffon had never been the same since Summerhall, and Cassana did not say what had changed. Joanna looked at her children and she hoped they would never have to feel the pain that she and Tywin had had to feel, that they could be spared the pain of war, of broken loves and torn hearts. Whilst she might not like that Jaime and Eddard were going to King’s Landing, that they were to be squiring for Tywin was some relief, it meant that they would not be left to the dogs that stalked the halls of the Red Keep. That was a relief in of itself. No matter how small. She shook her head slightly, tuning back into the music. She could not let her fears catch up with her now and ruin what should be a perfect last week for her children here in their home. Joanna hoped Eddard saw the Rock as his home, she did not want it to replace Winterfell, she did not think it could, but she also wanted him to feel like he belonged here, she knew what it was like to feel adrift in the biggest castles in the land. She had had Tywin and Rhaella to ease her way through the pain in those early days, she hoped Eddard knew he had friends and family, people who loved him and cared for him here. She looked at her children and smiled at the joy on their faces.

They spun around one more time, and then the music died. Joanna stepped back and said. “Now, you three shall show me what you have learned. We shall start with the Dragon’s Jig. Eddard, Cersei go first.”

Eddard and Cersei bowed before one another and took the other’s hand. They might quite a nice couple, if Joanna said so herself. Eddard was taller than Cersei and she looked quite snug nestled next to him. They danced, and neither stepped a foot wrong in time to the music, though as the music slowed down, Eddard almost tripped up in his haste to finish, causing him to blush furiously and for Cersei to giggle. Eddard giggled along with her and Joanna breathed a sigh of relief. The music stopped, Eddard and Cersei bowed to one another and then Jaime came and danced with Cersei. As she watched her twins dance, Joanna could see the connection that was there between them, but she hoped and prayed that it was simply sibling connection and nothing more, they could not allow it to be anything more.

The music slowed down and eventually stopped, before entering the music for the Stag’s Waltz. Jaime and Cersei danced first for this one, and looked a pure sight, all arms and legs and frantic movement, it was quite amusing, for they were both quite competitive and it was obvious they were trying to outdo one another. So much so that at one point they tripped over each other’s feet and sprawled to the floor. They were silent, the music kept playing, then they got up and giggled a little then continued. The music slowed down to a gentle beat, and as Joanna looked at the twins, she was reminded of how Damon had danced with her at her wedding to Tywin and she breathed a sigh of relief.

The dances continued for the next hour or so, as the day got cooler, the wind started to pick up, and it stopped being so damnably hot. Joanna watched with pride and amusement as her children-for they were all her children, including Eddard- danced and twirled and joked. The music was soothing, it helped her forget the troubles that were plaguing her and allowed her to enjoy the cheer and joy her children were getting from learning how to dance. Eventually, a servant came and informed her of the time, and she clapped her hands. The music stopped. Her children protested, but she silenced them with a look. “It is time for your lessons. Jaime, Cersei, you are to go to Maester Creylen, Eddard to Tygett.”

“But Mama, we’re having so much fun dancing, do we have to go to lessons?” Jaime asked, his eyes going round.

Joanna pretended to be frustrated. “Jaime, you know what we discussed and how important it is that you attend your lessons. You don’t want to let your Papa down do you?”

Jaime’s eyes expanded. “No, Mama, of course not Mama. Would we be able to come and dance later tonight though?”

“I don’t see why not.” Joanna replied.

“Yay!” Jaime squealed, he rushed forward and wrapped his arms around her waist, hugging her tightly. Joanna laughed.

“Well go on, go to your lessons all of you.” Joanna replied.

Jaime pulled back and nodded enthusiastically. “Yes Mama!” Joanna watched as her children hurried off to their lessons, a heavy sensation in her chest, they really were growing up too quickly.

Joanna stood for a moment, remembering. Memories of dancing with her father and mother before they had both died, of singing songs and laughing at bad jokes. Of the grim atmosphere when the Reynes and Tarbecks had dared raise their heads and their tails at the Lion of the Rock. So many memories were coming back to haunt her now, and she did not know why. Well, actually that was a lie, she understood perfectly well why. A hand ran through her hair then she moved away from the ballroom, she turned around corners and narrow hallways, the wind had picked up speed now, she could hear it howling outside, she shivered slightly, and breathed a sigh of relief when she entered the study, her study. Kevan was there waiting for her, as was the wetnurse with Tyrion, the youngest of her children who was small and stunted, but still beautiful. She took the babe from the wetnurse and balanced him in her arms as she sat down and then she placed him on her knee. “Mama!” Tyrion babbled, smiling and chattering away about something or the other, eventually he fell silent and Joanna looked at Kevan.

“There have been more sightings.” Her goodbrother said without preamble.

“In the same areas?” She asked.

“Yes, and always at the same time around the lowest peak of the sun and the beginning of the moon’s entrance into the sky. And there are varying numbers, sometimes five, sometimes ten, sometimes more. They display no colours, and none of the men have been able to hear what they say clearly, but it is clear something is being planned.” Kevan replied.

Joanna sighed. “What do you think it is that they are doing?” The rumours had first come to them from one of Gerion’s associates. A torn and tattered old man who had forgotten more about the Westerlands than anyone else alive knew or remembered.

“I think they are planning something serious, something that might well be in connection to whatever it is Tywin is planning with Lord Stark.” Kevan replied. Joanna knew Kevan did not quite appreciate being left in the dark about that, but it was necessary, the fewer people who knew right now, the less chance there was of it getting out and causing trouble later.

“I am not so sure. I think they might well just be trying to cause a stir, to cause fright. Everyone remembers what happened the last time someone went there.” Joanna said. The old murmurs who had ventured near the well where Tion Tarbeck had stood his ground and fought.  It was old and haunted, but nobody went there and survived.

“True, but these people are not like the others, they are there almost constantly, and they do not seem scared of the reputation the place has.” Kevan said, and Joanna was surprised, was that a hint of fear she heard in his voice?

Joanna considered this. “Well, until they actually do something that is worthy of drawing a proper reaction, all we can do is wait and watch. No matter how much I do not like it.” she did not want these people whoever they were staying where they were for too long, such a thing would attract attention, and attention never ended well.

“Do you still wish for Jaime and Eddard to leave for King’s Landing in a week? If these people are still there in a week they will be a beacon for trouble makers.” Kevan stated.

Joanna considered it for a moment then shook her head. “They must go to King’s Landing, if they do not, then people will talk, and if people talk they will soon learn about these others. We cannot allow that. Double or triple the guard though. That would not raise as many eyebrows, for the heir to the Rock to travel to the capital requires as many.”

Kevan nodded, stood up and bowed, he straightened and left. Once he was gone, Joanna felt Tyrion tug on a lock of her hair, she looked down at him and listened surprised when he said. “Bad men come, Mama, bad men come.” She remembered the last time she had heard that exact phrase, and shuddered.

 


	13. Squires Duty: Ned IV

Ned had to keep blinking to remind himself that this was actually happening, that he was in King’s Landing again, to serve as a squire for Lord Tywin Lannister. The journey from the Rock to the capital had been something else, this time there were nerves and anticipation inside of him. Jaime had cried slightly when they had left the Rock and gotten into the carriage, but had quickly stopped when Ned had explained that now they could play all the games that they wanted, and no one would ever tell them no. At least until they got to King’s Landing. And so, they had played all the games they would never think to play in the Rock: Blind Man’s Bluff, Chancer, Monkey’s Tail and a countless host of others that had passed the time until they had made it into the city, where Lord Tywin had greeted them with a sizeable retinue.

Dressed in gold and red, Lord Tywin had looked every inch a noble lord, and in some of his more treasonable moments of thought, Ned thought the Hand of the King looked more like a King than the King himself had done. The welcome feast had been good, getting to meet Arthur and Elia and Ashara again had been fun, they had caught up on everything that the others had done. Learning about the snake trail they had discovered in King’s Landing and in the King’s Forest was something else entirely, and Ned was not entirely sure whether to believe them or not. Ned had told them about his nameday, and had gotten some cheers and wishes from them, and a kiss on the cheek before going to bed from Ashara that had made him smile, it still made him smile now.

Now however, the festivities were over for a brief period, Lord Tywin’s main squire, Tytos Brax was showing them what their duties would be as squire for the second most powerful man in the kingdoms. Brax was two years older than Ned, and he was tall, muscular with a crop of silvery golden hair that made Ned wonder who his mother or grandmother was. He was also something of an annoyance. His tone was slightly grating. Ned looked at Jaime, and saw that his foster-brother was staring at Brax, a mixture of awe and fear on his face, that grated on Ned even more. “Now, Lord Tywin is a very demanding master. As his squires, you will be expected to fill his wine cup, with either wine or water depending on what he prefers at the time. You will be expected to wait on him hand and foot, to be ready to prepare anything he wants from you, at a moment’s notice. This could be getting important papers from his room in the Tower of the Hand, to filing away the same papers into alphabetical order, all without looking deeply into the contents.” A strange look crossed Brax’s face then, and Ned got the sense that the older boy had looked at the contents and gotten a bollocking for doing so, the thought made Ned grin, before he smoothed over his face.  Brax continued. “You will also be expected to help Lord Tywin dress, he likes to dress quickly, with minimal fuss. This is especially true if there is a feast of some importance taking place.” There was a moment’s pause, as if Brax was wanting to emphasise just how important his own role was, as the Hand’s chief squire, Ned just felt contempt for him. “Now, I shall show you where everything is kept and how to store it back in its place when the Hand of the King is done with it.”

Brax moved from his place toward a chest of draws, the draws had carvings of lions and dragons on them, and Ned knew what this was, this was what had been given to Lady Vaella, upon her marriage to Lord Tygett Lannister, many years ago. It was a priceless piece of furniture and it did not surprise him that Lord Tywin had it. Brax opened the first draw, and said. “In this draw, Lord Tywin keeps his papers. They are arranged according to importance and the day they will be needed.”

“I thought you said Lord Tywin filed his papers in alphabetical order?” Ned asked.

Brax gave him a withering look. “He does, but these are papers that are meant for council meetings only.”

“You could have led with that.” Ned replied.

Brax snorted. “Regardless, these papers are kept in order of how they are to be received.” He gestured to papers on his left-hand side. “These papers here, are the papers Lord Tywin will be using today. They are filed alphabetically, depending on the agenda of the council.” He gestured to papers in the middle. “These are the papers that Lord Tywin will need at different points during the week, they are filed according to importance.” Finally, he gestured to the papers on the right. “And these are the papers that he does not need, and will not need again.”

Ned nodded, and saw Jaime do the same, a look of worry crossing his face. Brax opened the second draw. Ned saw clothes of all sorts folded neatly and kept according to colour. Brax gestured at once. “Morning wear, afternoon wear, and evening wear.” Seeing the looks of surprise on their faces, Brax snorted. “Court etiquette dictates that all members of the small council wear more than one set of clothes throughout the day, to ensure that they are properly representing the King.” The draw closed, the one beneath it opened. Ned stared, there were pins and badges, as well as small daggers. “The Hand’s weapons draw, these weapons are small and blunted, but we are expected to polish them.” The draw closed, and then Brax opened a fourth draw, before closing it.

“What’s in there?” Jaime asked immediately.

“Nothing. I was not supposed to open that.” Brax said, a hint of fear in his voice. “Come, let us move from here and you can ask me whatever questions you might have.” Brax moved, his long legs carrying him further than either Ned or Jaime on their shorter legs could realistically hope to keep pace with. Eventually Brax stopped and Ned noticed they were stood in another room, how they had gotten into this room he did not know, but here they were. Brax stared at them, and they him, Ned was not sure what to ask, he didn’t have many questions apart from finding out what was in that draw, Jaime for once didn’t have any questions either, his foster brother was surprisingly silent.

As the silence dragged on, Ned decided to speak. “What time does Lord Tywin normally wake? And where are we to spend the evening hours?” Ned knew that junior squires were not meant to spend every waking hour with their masters, that was the role of senior squires.

“Lord Tywin wakes up around the first light of dawn, and when you are not on duty, you sleep in your own quarters.” Brax responded.

Ned nodded, Brax spoke once more. “Very well, if you have no more questions, I must be off, Lord Tywin is expecting me.” Tytos nodded his head and then turned on his heel and walked out of the room, leaving Ned and Jaime alone.

The moment Brax was gone, Ned turned to Jaime and asked him. “Are you okay, you’ve been awfully quiet.”

His foster brother was silent, his lips pursed, then suddenly a torrent of words broke forth. “I…I… do not know, but there’s something about him that doesn’t seem right.”

“What do you mean?” Ned asked, Jaime might be young, but he was usually quite good with getting the hand on people, as he had demonstrated before when they were in the Rock.

“I mean, he just seems so very silly. He seems like a puffed-up tortoise.” Jaime replied grinning.

Ned couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m sure that he’s just feeling important. Showing the heir to the Rock what his duties will be as a squire to his father.”

Jaime nodded, but Ned could tell he was not quite convinced. Thankfully, his foster brother did not linger long on it, instead he said. “Shall we go and find Arthur? I know he would be free right about now.”

“Sure.” Ned said, ignoring the slight pang in his chest, for some reason Jaime’s friendship and near hero worship of Arthur worried him. They walked out of the room, down through alcoves and more halls, there were a lot of halls in the Tower of the Hand. They walked out of the tower, and onto the path, along the path they walked, silent strangely enough, Jaime didn’t seem in the mood for talking, which was odd in itself, but Ned took the silence and continued walking. After what seemed like an age they arrived at the Red Keep proper, they nodded to the guards and entered. As expected Arthur was there waiting for them, and so was the Prince.

Prince Rhaegar was dressed in green, not the traditional red and black that he normally wore. He smiled when he saw them. “Ah, Eddard, Jaime. It is good to see you again. Arthur mentioned that he was meeting you both. I hope you do not mind if I join you?”

Jaime looked at Ned, and Ned shook his head. “Not at all, Your Royal Highness.”

The Prince smiled. “Excellent. So, shall we venture outwards?” Ned and Jaime nodded, and Ned noticed that Ser Jonothor Darry was standing behind the Prince an ever-present shadow, it made him wonder what Martyn was doing, his father had summoned Martyn back to Winterfell before he’d left for King’s Landing and so, Rodrick Wull had taken up the reins as his sworn sword, Rodrick was a good man, silent as anything though.

They walked away from the entrance, a door opened for them as guards bowed their heads to the crown prince, another door opened, and then they were in what Ned had seen referred to as the Inner Sanctum. It was a large hall, with banners of dragons, black, red, green, white and gold. There were paintings of the different Kings and Queens and their families, it was a fascinating place, and Ned really wanted to see more of it. The Prince spoke then. “Arthur, why don’t you and Jaime go to the hall of swords?”

“Yes Your Royal Highness.” Arthur said, and he and Jaime disappeared down another hallway. Ned watched them and wondered what was in the Hall of Swords, and then found his attention drawn back to the paintings and the banners.

“They’re beautiful, aren’t they?” The Prince asked softly.

“Yes.” Ned whispered. “How many are there?” His gestured, there seemed to be a lot of them on the walls, but at the same time not nearly as many as he thought there might be.

 “Roughly around thirty. From before the doom till now.” The Prince said.

“There are thirty paintings here?” Ned asked astonished. “But…But…”

“It doesn’t seem as though the room can take that many, doesn’t it?” The Prince asked. Ned turned and saw that the Prince was smiling.

“Yes, how is it possible for it to hold thirty?” Ned queried.

The Prince clapped his hands then, and the walls shifted, expanding, changing, moulding into something much bigger. When the Prince clapped his hands again, the walls stopped, and there before them were more paintings and drawings. “Like that.” The Prince replied smiling.

“How?” Ned stuttered. “What?”

The Prince smiled. “When Aegon the Dragon built the Red Keep, or Aegonfort as it was called then, he imbued a little of Valyria into the walls. That foundation stood through the tearing down of the fort, and its reconstruction as the Red Keep. He ensured that as it stood firm, so too could the descendants of his blood replenish and revitalise the walls and the very foundation of his conquest. And so, there are many such things within the Red Keep.”

Ned’s eyes widened, he took in the wall with the elaborate paintings and drawings and tried to place that with what he’d just been told. “Wow.” It felt insufficient. Wow was not the right word, but what the right word was, he did not know.

The Prince’s mouth widened, into a grin. “Do you want to see the paintings up close?”

Ned’s eyes widened. “I…we…can? That is allowed? I had read that the paintings were off limits to everyone apart from the immediate royal family, Your Royal Highness.” Even as he said the words, he knew how silly they sounded considering who he was with.

The Prince laughed, a musical sound. “Well, you are with the crown prince of Westeros, Eddard, I am sure nobody will mind. So, come now, let us look at these paintings and see what they tell us.” The Prince moved forward to a painting with two dragons locked in a fierce stare at one another, one was bronze and the other was silver.

Eddard looked at the dragons and whispered. “Vermithor and Silverwing. The dragons of King Jaehaerys and Queen Alysanne. They look really angry.”

“Indeed they do, this was during one of their famous quarrels. I believe it was around the time Prince Aegon, their firstborn son died.” Prince Rhaegar said, his voice sounding sad.

“I thought Prince Aemon was their firstborn?” Eddard asked, his voice uncertain.

“Well, most history books include him as their first-born child, but this was only ever done at King Jaehaerys request. You see Prince Aegon was a most wild of Princes, he did whatever he pleased and did not care about the consequences. He was a smart and intelligent child, and a good warrior, but he was dangerous.” The Prince explained.

Prince Aegon sounded a lot like Brandon. “Why was he dangerous?” Ned asked.

Here the Prince’s voice took on a slightly heavy quality. “Prince Aegon did not like the Faith, he saw them as zealots who were only cowed after exacting heavy concessions from the King and his wife. There was much and more that was wrong in the relationship between the Iron Throne and the Faith, much that was lurking underneath the service. Prince Aegon wanted to eradicate the cancerous hierarchy of the Faith and ensure that only the King was answerable to the Seven and nobody else. He incited riots against the Faith, he incited disruptions, and because he was a good speaker, everybody followed. There was a threat to the peace that King Jaehaerys had worked so hard to build. And so, when Prince Aegon was out riding one night, his horse stumbled and fell over a pass of rock that had never been there before. His neck broke and he died. When the King and Queen found out about this, they grieved, and then they argued.”

“Why did they argue?” Ned asked, he could understand the grief, he had grieved when Mother had died.

“Because King Jaehaerys went on with life, he met with Septon Barth and he arranged it so that nobody focused on Prince Aegon, everyone moved onto the new heir.” The Prince said.

“He made it so that everybody forgot about his firstborn son?” Ned asked horrified. “Why?”

Prince Rhaegar looked at the painting and then at Ned, his eyes filled with sadness. “Because it was easier that way. The Faith would get off his back, they would not pester him to do something about his heir, when his heir was the now devout Prince Aemon. All would be well, and they were happy with that. Queen Alysanne was not, and so their dragons snarled at one another.”

Ned could not comprehend that, it was almost like if something happened to Brandon and then Father rewrote history, Father would never do that, Father loved Brandon too much to ever do that. He had kept Brandon in the north and sent Ned away. “But they made up in the end did they not?” He asked.

“Yes, they did. Eventually Queen Alysanne moved on with life, and ensured that Prince Aemon was well and a good and proper heir for Westeros. And in time she forgot about her firstborn, but she never allowed his memory to be forgotten.” Prince Rhaegar said, Ned wanted to ask what he meant, but then his attention was caught by a portrait of a great beast, he walked over to it and asked.

“Is this Balerion?”  The Black Dread was legend.

The Prince shook his head. “No, that is the Black Dread’s sire, Golgoth.”

Ned stared at the painting, the beast was black and red, and was twice, no thrice, no maybe even larger than that, he was certainly bigger than Balerion, or the images that Ned had seen of the Black Dread. “Why is it none of the books mention him?”

The Prince smiled. “Because they do not wish to think about what happened before the conquest. Balerion is what they wish to teach, not Golgoth.”

“I’m not sure I understand, Your Royal Highness.” Ned replied. His mind was racing Golgoth looked huge, the Black Dread was young during the Conquest, and was huge then, Golgoth looked old, but he was not sure, Lya knew more about art than he did.

“Balerion represents the Targaryen dynasty as it was seen through the eyes of the Westerosi, new, fresh, a change, and frightening. Golgoth was a monster, a true beast worthy of the name. He was everything the Targaryens were and were meant to be.” The Prince said.

Ned hesitated. “But the Targaryens were lesser nobles in Valyria.”

The Prince looked at Ned and smiled secretly. “Do not always believe everything you read by Maesters, Eddard. They write what they want you to know, not what you ought to know.”

“What do you mean?” Ned asked.

The Prince did not reply immediately, and when he did Arthur and Jaime were returning. The Prince turned to them and said. “Come let us make our way back to the castle proper, the feast will be happening soon.” They left the inner sanctum and Ned had more questions than he knew what to do with.

 

 


	14. Larking About: Jaime IV

****

There was something different about King’s Landing now. Gone were the celebrations, replaced by a serious atmosphere, gone were the smiles and the laughter, replaced  by serious expressions that did more to confuse than anything else. Jaime did not know what it was, what had changed in the time since he had last been here, but King’s Landing was different. Maybe it was because Mama was not here, Mama always made the room brighter, she always made people smile and laugh, especially Papa. But she was not here, she was still in the Rock with Cersei and Tyrion, and Papa was more serious now, he rarely smiled, and Jaime didn’t like it.

Still he had his duties and he was going to do them properly. Right now, when Papa was not meeting with lords or officials, that meant listening to him talk about what it meant to be a great lord. Ned was there, as was Brax. Jaime focused as Papa spoke. “In order to make the lords of the realm respect you, you must never appear as though you are desperate for their approval. You must never fawn and gape at something they say, you must always greet it with polite indifference, you must make sure that they want to tell you more, that they feel they have to tell you more. You must never come across as if you are begging for them to tell you more.”  Jaime nodded because he saw Ned nod but he was not sure he understood what Papa meant, what he was saying sounded an awful lot like lying, and Mama said lying was bad.

Ned asked a question as he always did. “What happens if the person you are talking to is not a lord, but a lady? Could they not suss out the truth quicker than an average lord?”

That was an odd question to ask, Jaime thought, but Papa seemed to appreciate it. There was a smile on his face. “A good question, however, not every lady you meet is like Lady Joanna. Many ladies have air in their heads and not enough sense to form a more coherent thought than to twitter away about the latest gossip. The few ladies that you meet who are not like that, will either have ensured you never know that they are different, or you will be dead, by the time you realise they are different.”

Jaime felt vaguely horrified by that prospect. “Well, it is a good thing there is only one woman like Mama then, and that’s Mama!”

Papa’s smile widened. “Indeed.” There was a brief pause, and then Papa spoke once more. “Now, in the time you have squired for me, you are sure to have heard a lot. Tell me what is the most interesting thing you have heard?”

Tytos Brax spoke first, his voice filled with some odd mix of awe and disgust. “When Lord Merryweather came to speak to you about the grain produce. There was an angle he was trying to get across, but I am not sure he even knew what that angle was.”

Papa smirked. “Lord Merryweather is a bumbling fool who says more than he can truly mean and does not appreciate the fact that his position is weaker than it has ever been. What would you have done had he come to you with that proposition?”

Brax’s face scrunched up, and Jaime got the impression that he was like one of those cows who had eaten something particularly unpleasant. “I would have told him that his proposition was unreasonable and with the tension with Bravos not realistic.”

There was a brief silence and Jaime thought Papa might approve-the thought made him oddly jealous- and then Papa sighed. “A blunt approach and that might work with some in the Westerlands, but it would not work here. Merryweather is a fool yes, but he is a fool who has friends who are powerful. One must massage people like that’s ego, make them see where their errors are without directly pointing them out. State something such as ‘It is a good thought, and one that deserves more consideration.’ Do not say ‘It is a terrible idea and will never be done.’ That makes you appear far too negative and will never engender the man to come and speak again. Meaning you miss out on when he comes up with something common sense.”

Brax nodded, and then Ned spoke. “I found the petitions of the Devout Brotherhood to be most interesting. I find it odd how such a fanatical order is tolerated, given the history between the throne and the Faith.”

Jaime listened then. He had been there when the Devout Brotherhood had come and asked Papa something to do with lowering the tariffs for book publishing. Papa had not been happy. One look at Papa now and Jaime could see he still was not happy. “The Devout Brotherhood has more devotion in it than common sense I fear. They came to ask something that they knew would never get done. And I think that was part of their plan.”

“How so?” Ned asked.

“The Devout Brotherhood come from a time when there was little to nothing happening between the Faith and the Throne, there was no dialogue for King Maegor was destroying everything that could possibly have been used as dialogue. Instead, they were forming and they were reinforcing their position. Now, however, they are weakening and they wish to change that. The King would never give them the tools to change their position and he is right to do so. Radicals are dangerous to the natural order.” Papa said.

Jaime saw that Ned had a thoughtful expression on his face and had no doubt that later on when they were done here, his foster brother would be looking into the Devout Brotherhood more. How Ned had the time to read so much with everything else they had to do, Jaime did not know. Still, there was one thing that had stood out to Jaime. “Why did Ser Gerold come to speak to you about the Band of Nine, Papa?” That had been something he had found most curious. The Band of Nine had died out long ago, before Jaime had been born, before Papa and Mama had ever married!  He could not see why they would still be a concern.

A strange look crossed over Papa’s face, and his voice was softer than it had been before. “They are a remnant from a past age, it is true. But they are still relevant today. There are those who would bring down the natural order and as such the Lord Commander merely wanted to discuss the things we had heard before we presented them to the King.”

Jaime nodded, that was not really an answer he understood or cared about, but still. “What is the Lord Commander like?” He had heard a great many things about the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. The White Bull, the man who had defeated seven men in one go during the Bracken Rebellion, the man who had kept the Golden Company fighting into the sea during the War of the Ninepenny Kings, the man who had protected Queen Betha from assailants during the Rouble War. He was a legend, and Jaime never knew what to say when he stood before him.

Papa’s smile had softened out then, the lines on his face looked less menacing. “He is a good man. A brave man, dedicated and devoted. He knows everything there is to know about fighting, about commanding in war and about being a loyal servant to the crown.” There was a pause, and Papa’s eyes widened and then went down again, Jaime did not know what to make of that, and was surprised when Papa said. “Right, well Tytos remain here, Eddard, Jaime you have sparring practice to attend.”

Usually Papa kept them till the very last moment before they needed to go off to sparring practice, and so it was with a little reluctance that Jaime stood up and walked out of the room with Ned. His thoughts drifted back to the Rock and Mama and he felt a sharp pang in his side. It was silly really, Mama was in the Rock and he wrote to her every so often and got letters from her every so often, it wasn’t like his Mama was dead, unlike Ned’s mama, and so he kept quiet about it, and fought hard to keep the thoughts of missing home and the smell of baked bread and the sound of Mama singing away from his mind. It was hard work, but eventually, they got to the training yard, a big round arena, covered in sand and chalk. Jaime and Ned smiled at one another before moving to grab wooden training swords from the stock room. Ser Alliser Thorne, the master of arms at the Red Keep smiled at them and Jaime was happy to see that Arthur was there alongside Garth Hightower.

“Right, Garth, Jaime, show me what you’ve got.” Ser Alliser called out.

Jaime and Garth moved out into the middle of the arena, swords in hand, they lowered their heads to one another and then straightened. Garth was a bit bigger than Jaime, but Jaime knew he was quicker. They circled one another, Jaime could feel the blood rushing in body, he was excited by this prospect. He saw an opening on Garth’s right hand side, and lunged. Garth parried the blow away and danced back and then forward, swinging with to his left. Jaime managed to dodge the blow and bring his sword up in time to block another swing.

Garth came again, a feint to the right and then a swing straight for the centre. Jaime blocked and then pushed forward with all his might. Garth teetered a little off balance and Jaime used that to his advantage. He swung and dipped his sword, slicing at Garth, nicking him in the side, before bringing his sword up and clipping Garth’s nose. Garth retaliated with a series of brutal swings, that forced Jaime onto the back foot. He ducked, weaved and dodged, but Garth came at full force, and Jaime knew he would not be able to last much longer. Garth kept pressing and pressing, Jaime felt his arms grow tired and sore from constantly defending. And then he saw it.

Every time Garth went for him, he left his left side open. Jaime thought quickly about how he could exploit that, if he struck for the left, Garth would realise that that was what he was doing and therefore he could not do that. Instead, Jaime took a breath and leaned back, moved to the right and then leaned back and straightened before hitting the left, he feinted and bobbed up so he was in Garth’s guard, he winked at his friend and then cut across his side, ending with his sword pointing at Garth’s throat.

 “Good.” Ser Alliser called out. Jaime moved back from Garth and the two of them stood there, waiting for Ser Alliser to make the comments he would make. Ser Alliser came to stand before them, dressed in the red and black of House Targaryen, a white flail on his right side indicating what house he is a member of. “Jaime you did well to recover from the attack that Garth was giving you. However, you were a little late in realising the opening that Garth’s attacks were giving you. You need to keep your eyes on his movements at all times, not just where his sword is.” Jaime bit back a retort. He waited for Ser Alliser’s comments on Garth’s performance. “Garth you did well, I liked the formation of your attacks, however, as I said before, you must keep your left side guarded as well. Try not to lean too much to the right. Otherwise well done. Now, Eddard, Arthur come forward.”

As Jaime and Garth moved to put their swords back in the right place, Garth whispered. “I’m betting you Arthur wins this one.”

Jaime looked at his friend and then over his shoulder to where Ned and Arthur were facing up. “I think Ned might win it, he’s got a better form for these sorts of things. Arthur doesn’t seem to have the patience.” Arthur was an amazing swordsman, but there were times when his patience slipped, in the four times that he and Ned had fought, Ned had won twice, and Arthur once, the other time had been a draw.

They put their swords back into the cover, and Garth shook his head. “Arthur’s been practising. He’s been coming here every day early in the morning and only leaving when the Prince needs him. I think he will win.”

Jaime thought about that for a moment, silent as they walked back to watch the fight unfold. Ned stood firmly, Arthur stood loosely, then Ser Alliser called for the fight to begin. They circled one another, Jaime watched with anticipation, wanting to see how things could go from here. Ned lunched first, a small swing that Arthur blocked easily. Arthur pushed back and Ned ended up on the back foot, before advancing forward and swinging again. Their swords met in a clang. Ned’s left foot was coming forward, he was putting pressure on Arthur here, Ned was bigger, than Arthur, but Arthur was quicker on his feet. As he showed when he did a quick switch and was soon on the front foot.

“Master Jaime.” A voice said behind him, causing Jaime to nearly jump. He turned around and saw Ser Harold Grandison, of the Kingsguard standing in front of him.

“Yes?” Jaime asked, wondering what a knight of the Kingsguard could want from him.

Ser Harold looked slightly uncomfortable. “Her Royal Highness, The Princess Daenerys asked me to remind you of your meeting today, well now, Master Jaime.”

Jaime felt something drop inside him. Of course, he’d said he’d play knights and maidens with Princess Daenerys, how could he have forgotten? He looked over his shoulder to where Ned and Arthur were battering one another, and though a part of him wanted to stay to watch this fight, he also wanted to play with the Princess more. “I’m coming now.” He said to the knight, he turned to Garth and said. “Let me know how it goes!” Garth nodded and Jaime hurried off to meet the Princess, Ser Harold a white shadow behind him.

After weaving through the crowd of court and the hallways and corridors, they eventually made it to the Princess’s rooms, and Jaime knocked, he entered when she said to come in and Jaime smiled at her. The Princess was wearing a dress of silver, and her hair was tied neatly. Her face was slightly pink. “You look pretty, Dany.” Jaime said.

Dany smiled. “Thank you. Did you forget about our game against the monster?”

Jaime blushed. “No, I was sparring, sorry.”

Dany waved a hand. “Not to worry. So, do you remember where we were?”

Jaime nodded, and he grabbed her hand. “The monster was about to come and get us as we were escaping.”

The monster appeared before them then and snarled. “You will never escape my hold. You will remain here for a hundred years.”

Jaime looked at the Princess and together they said. “Never, you will be gone foul beast.” Jaime swung his sword and the beast moved back, laughing.

“You think that is enough to stop me, boy? You know nothing!” The monster came forward and the ground shook under their feet.

“I will not let you take the Princess, monster. Be gone.” Jaime said swinging his sword again. This time he hit the monster and the monster groaned a little. Jaime swung again and the monster fell back.

“Ah!!! What fell sorcery is this?” The monster asked, his voice sounding pained.

“Quickly Ser, we must go before the monster recovers.” Dany said.

Jaime swung his sword once more and the monster fell back even further. Together he and Dany ran away from the monster and to safety, when they reached their safe place, Dany beamed at him and cheered. “Yay! The monster is defeated and we are safe.” She turned to him and smiled. “Thank you, my gallant hero.” She kissed him on the cheek, and Jaime felt his face heat up slightly.

“It was nothing, Princess. I was merely doing my duty.” Jaime replied when Dany was standing before him, trying to figure out why his face was warm.

“You saved me from the greatest monster this realm has ever known, that is no small feat. How could I ever thank you?” The Princess asked.

Jaime thought for a moment and then launched himself at the Princess, tickling her. “Well, you could tell me where the lemoncakes are kept.”

Dany laughed. “Okay, okay, stop, stop, I’ll tell you where they are kept.” Jaime stopped tickling her and looked at her expectantly. The Princess caught her breath and then said. “They’re kept in the lower closet of the kitchens, near the chocolate cakes.”

Jaime grinned, his stomach rumbled, that meant they would be extra cold, always a good thing. “Thank you, Princess.” He said before he helped her stand up. “So, what do you want to do now?”

“Why, eat lemoncakes of course.” Dany said before walking passed him and out of the room, Jaime soon followed, and as they turned and twisted through the corridors and doorways and hallways, he had time to wonder why his face had heated up. It did not matter really, all that mattered was ensuring they got lemoncakes. They got to the kitchens and finding them nowhere near as full as they might have otherwise been, they snuck in. Coming to a cupboard shaped like a wolf, the Princess opened it, and gave him a lemoncake, and took one herself. He took a bite and groaned with pleasure, they tasted so nice, the Princess did the same, and then she stopped and said. “I’m really happy you’re here Jaime.”

Jaime smiled at her and with a mouthful of lemoncake said. “I am too, Dany.”


	15. Growing Empty: Tywin III

****

Tywin remembered when King’s Landing had sung with joy and life, when King’s Landing had been all he could think about, and all he could aspire to. He had been young then. Young and foolish. He was wiser now. He saw the snakes in the grass, waiting and watching, preparing to pounce on even a trace of weakness.  Tywin knew that his father had never understood why he had felt so intoxicated whilst he was here, he knew his brothers did not understand, but Joanna did, she always did. And he missed her, she had written to him to say that things were well in the Rock, but that there were concerning signs of an old enemy coming back to face them. That worried Tywin though there was not much he could do about it now, he would need to wait and see, and he had told Joanna this as well.

Instead he focused his attention on the things he could deal with right now. He looked at the officials before him, and spoke. “Remind me again Ser Jasper, what is it exactly that you wish to discuss?” He knew what it was the man wanted to discuss, he wanted to know what to do about those nobles skimping out on taxation payments, but Jasper was a man who often hid the true extent of a problem and Tywin wanted the man to be open about this.

Ser Jasper was a thin man, a weed really, with blond hair and milky eyes. He looked like an even weaker version of Stafford. His voice was low though, unusually so. “My lord hand, the taxation methods are simple enough to understand, this is true. But there are those in the kingdoms who are refusing to contribute the full amount that the Master of Coin states that they should collect. They argue that the methods used to calculate their average tax amount are out of date and needing removal and change.”

Tywin picked up a letter that had come from Lord Mooton in Maidenpool, he snorted. “The methods used, they are in keeping with the King’s code of conduct for tax officials, correct?” The King had implemented the code when he had come to the throne, on Tywin’s suggestion, as a means of ensuring that the problems of King Aegon’s reign did not last.

“Yes, my lord hand.” Ser Jasper said. “But some nobles like Lord Mooton state that those methods are not fair, and that they demand that they be looked at again.”

Tywin knew that the King would never look at the methods again, unless he thought someone was cheating him badly. Mooton and his allies were lucky that the amounts they were refusing to pay were merely in hundreds of dragons and not the thousands. He was tempted to let the matter slide, but he knew that if he did so it would likely only lead to more lords doing as Mooton and Vypren were doing and that could not be allowed. He took a breath and then said. “Very well. I want it known to all the King’s tax collectors that the methods for tax collection are perfectly fine and reasonable and that anyone who refuses to pay their full amount is to have their name noted down and publicly addressed to the King. Anyone who then refuses to pay the amount they are meant to, will have their assets with the crown slowly frozen and their land slowly encroached on until they pay fully.”

Tywin knew that this method was risky, and that it was more rash than perhaps was wise, but it was needed, they could not tolerate anyone taking the crown for a ride. Ser Jasper hesitated for a moment but then nodded. “Very well, my lord hand.”

“Anything else?” Tywin asked. Ser Jasper shook his head, and Tywin nodded for him to leave. The man got up and walked out, the door had not yet closed when Ser William Sloane, Chief Lieutenant for the Marches walked in. Sloane was a proud man with a strong build, a known soldier, he was one of Tywin’s friends from his time serving as a page for King Aegon. “Ser William, please be seated.” The man sat down in the chair recently vacated by Ser Jasper, and Tywin asked him. “What can I do for you?”

Ser William smiled. “Well, what I want to know is what does the King intend to do about the Brotherhood? They are getting more and more troublesome on the marches, and they are gaining something of a following amongst the more foolish of the peasantry. I have sent my own men into counteract this, but the Brotherhood are growing.”

Tywin hid a sigh, behind another letter, this time from Ser Gawen Wylde. “The King and Lord Steffon have been in constant communication and they are working to ensure that the Brotherhood works its way into the trap being set. Trust me, Ser William when I tell you that the Brotherhood will not be an issue any longer.”

The knight nodded, though there was something in his bearing that made Tywin think he knew he was lying. Regardless, the knight was silent for a moment and then asked. “And what of the situation with Bravos, will my men need to remain on high alert for much longer?”

Tywin kept his face blank, but inside he was screaming. The King continued to insist that maintaining the embargo against Bravos was worthwhile even when there were signs that Volantis and Pentos were breaking and were considering their options. The King wanted to make a statement and he was making it, whether or not it would be effective was a completely different matter. Tywin took a breath. “Your men will need maybe a few more moons before they can relax, Ser. I know it is a difficult ask, but it is necessary to ensure that things are stable and secure throughout the Kingdoms. Bravos is too unpredictable an enemy to relax against.”

Ser William nodded and then stood up. “Very well, thank you.” With that the man turned and walked out of the room, Tywin thought about the man for a moment and made a note to consider replacements. He would need to see who would replace the old man when his time came. Lord Lieutenant was an important position, only the best could fill it.

As Tywin waited for Pycelle, he turned to Tytos and asked. “Tell me Tytos, what do you think of Ser Jasper and the taxation situation?”

Tytos Brax was a smart boy, but he could be remarkably thick when it came down to it.  Here, he was silent, then in a drawl he answered. “I think that taxation method is correct, and that the nobles are wrong to refuse to pay their due. However, I do think that there is another way to get them to pay.”

Intrigued, Tywin asked. “And what way is that?”

Brax’s cheeks turned red. “I would slip in one or two changes to the taxation rates without them knowing. I do not think any of the lords really look at the changes in the system, I know my father does not. If you made the changes discreetly, then they would never know, and would probably start paying the rate of taxation they were meant to be paying anyway.”

Tywin thought on this for a moment, it was smart, and he had considered it, but there was only one way to handle someone like Mooton. Still he was curious to see why Tytos had reached this conclusion. “And why do you think they would pay the actual rate more willingly, if this was the approach that was taken?”

Brax’s cheeks darkened in colour. “Because many of the Lords are reluctant to part with their money, this is a well-known fact. However, from what I have seen, they are less likely to protest an increase if they think it is not noticeable. For example, if their rate went up by 99 pennies, they are going to think they are getting a good deal and cough up more.”

Tywin nodded, he knew that line of thinking, indeed he had discussed that very argument with its creator, Maester Marwyn. “I see, and if there are lords who do actually look at their tax sheets and see this change, and still refuse to pay, what then?”

Marwyn had given a decent answer when Tywin had asked him this same question, here though Tytos was fumbling. His words were not coming out, and Tywin had the impression he had not yet read that far in Marwyn’s treatise. As Brax continued to stumble around, Tywin eventually answered for him. “If they notice that there has been a rise and they refuse to pay, you do as I have suggested be done already. You remind them of what they must lose by refusing to pay. If they still refuse to pay, then you act on your reminder. You take away their sources of income and you take it for the crown. You make them poor and you leave them begging for mercy. It is the only way to make a truculent child realise that he has been wrong.”

Tytos’ face fell at that, and the colour seemingly drained from his face. Tywin recalled who the boy’s father was and knew why that had happened. Andros Brax had had the same look on his face when Tywin had ordered the complete and utter destruction of Houses Reyne and Tarbeck. The Brax family were not cut out for such ruthlessness. Thankfully, Pycelle decided to enter the room then and Brax disappeared into a corner. Tywin fixed his gaze on Pycelle, saying nothing, allowing Pycelle to fidget on his chair for a time. When he was satisfied that Pycelle was suitably on edge, he spoke. “What word has there been from the Citadel?”

“They have agreed to send Qyburn over to King’s Landing to stand before the King’s judgement.” Pycelle said. “They have agreed to hand over his works as well, for inspection by yourself, and His Majesty the King.” Pycelle’s face fell then, and Tywin knew his suspicions had been confirmed. “They have also agreed to send over several manuscripts that were requested by the King.”

“Good.” Tywin said pleased. The Citadel were finally coming to heel, and he knew then that with a little bit more pressure they might be able to exert some proper control over that rogue element of Westeros. “And what about the conclave, have they reached a decision about their rules and regulations?” That was one of the things that had always angered him about the Citadel, for a group that demanded absolute openness about everything, they were surprisingly closed off about allowing people into their inner sanctum.

Pycelle shifted, and the chair groaned. “They have agreed that old records shall be released.”

“And they will also release the records from the past year?” Tywin pressed, he wished to identify a pattern, he could not do that without all the records.

Pycelle’s head shook. “No, unfortunately not, my lord. They have said that doing so would break King Garth’s Law about maintaining records from a fresh meeting for at least five years before releasing them.”

“You reminded them of course that King Garth’s Law was repealed by the Movement Law, passed during the reign of King Maekar, and again during the reign of King Jaehaerys the Second?” Tywin pressed.

“I did, my lord, but they refused to budge. They insist that these documents are protected under Garth’s Law.” Pycelle said.

Pycelle was lying, Tywin knew he was, but he was not sure why. Regardless, he would use his source in the citadel to get those documents anyway. Deciding to change the topic, he said. “I have not had word from our friends in the Eyrie, have they decided against following through with what we agreed?”

Pycelle’s face turned white, very white. “N…o, no my lord hand. They have not. But it is the Eyrie and Jon Arryn’s control over it is absolute. I would not be surprised if they had decided to hold back for the time being whilst things calmed down.”

Tywin nodded. “Good. We would not want them to have gotten cold feet. And how is our friend in the Eyrie getting on with ensuring that Lord Arryn cannot truly interfere with our plans?”

Pycelle’s shoulders straightened then. “Very well, it seems that Lady Arryn has fallen ill once more, and this time it seems as though it might be the final nail for them. Young Elbert is coming along promisingly and as such will no doubt be a very fine lord.”

Tywin acknowledged this with a slight tilt of his head. _Are you hearing this Ronnel, I am keeping my promise to you._ “Now then, the issue of ensuring that there is proper funding for the schools that we need to continue to develop the Kingdoms, you have spoken to those of your friends in the Citadel, to ensure they are still willing to come and teach?”

“I have, my lord hand. They are still willing and they are definitely going to be ensuring that they bring their knowledge and expertise with them.” Pycelle said happily.

“Good. I want to be kept updated on every development that comes from this as time goes by.” Tywin said standing up. He shook hands with Pycelle, watched as the man walked out of the room, and then made his own way out of the Tower of the Hand. Tytos accompanied him as far as the drawbridge before he told the boy to go and get some rest, he would not need a squire where he was going.

He nodded to courtiers as he passed them, their names were there in his mind, Lord Osgrey a distant cousin, no doubt there to petition the King about his inheritance, Lord Peake a constant fixture, Lord Merryweather, a rambling old fool, Lord Whent, a smart and bold man and Lady Dayne, a curious lady who was not the ruling lady in her own right, but was present at the Red Keep, with her husband away on the King’s business. Tywin walked through passageways adorned with paintings of dragons and thieves, there were dancing dreamers on the walls as well, and soon enough Tywin relaxed enough to nod to his guards to stay at the doors. He walked into the room and came to stand next to the hooded figure. “It is in place. Pycelle has given me the information.” He said softly.

“Good.” The hooded figure said. “We are alone?”

“We are.” Tywin replied.                     

The hooded figure pulled their hood down and silver hair cascaded down. Tywin bowed before the Queen and listened as she spoke. “We are running thin on time, Tywin. Soon we shall need to make our move and I need to know that Jon Arryn will be gone before he can cause too much trouble.”

“I do not know if he will be gone in the purest sense of the word, Your Grace, but I do know that he will be too concerned with trying to figure out why he never has any heirs of his own body to be involved in outside politics. Elbert Arryn is coming along well, and Denys Arryn is ensuring that our interests are being looked after in Gulltown.” Tywin said.

“And the girl? Did we need to use the Burned Men to cause that disruption?” The Queen asked, a tint of concern in her voice.

Tywin wished he could do as he had done when they were younger and lay a comforting hand on the Queen’s shoulder, but she was the Queen now, and so he remained respectful. “The girl was crucial to the plan, Your Grace, the girl would ensure that the men of the Vale are too busy fighting and killing the clans to realise their master is slipping away from them. It pains me to know she is with a savage, but it needed to be done.”

The Queen sighed. “I suppose you are right. Still it does not make me sleep easier at night.” There was a brief silence and then she spoke again. “The King will want to know soon enough. He already knows the barest bones of the plot, but he will need to know everything. And I think we should tell him, tell him before something else happens to take his attention away from what matters.”

Tywin nodded, he knew what Aerys was like and he knew just how many ideas and plans lay scattered across the King’s solar in forgotten corners, going grey. “I will make sure that everything is ready and prepared so that when he is told, nothing is amiss.”

The Queen smiled. “Thank you, Tywin. You have been of great help.”

Tywin bowed his head. “It is my honour to serve.”

“As to the Brotherhood, I received reliable information that they will be meeting at the Sept of Remembrance on the street of fire in three days. They will be accompanied by a knight who once tried to court me. If you were to send men, there in plain colours and have them deal with the brotherhood as well as the knight then that would be most useful.” The Queen whispered.

Tywin was surprised. He had always thought the Queen had some small affection for Ser Bonnifer, but apparently not. It was not his duty to question regardless. And so, he said. “I will ensure that it is done, and that it is done quietly.”

“Thank you.” The Queen said, before holding out her hand, Tywin kissed it, and then turned and walked out of the room, nodding to his guards, he made the journey back to the Tower of the Hand. Once he was back in his rooms he summoned Damon, the captain of his household guard.

When his cousin stood before him he said. “In three days’ time you are to go to the Sept of Remembrance on the street of fire, with ten soldiers and thirty men of the guard, dressed in plain clothes, and you are to find the Brotherhood, and kill them, as well as anyone who tries to stop you.”

His cousin did not even blink. “Very well, I shall tell the men to sharpen their weapons.”

Tywin nodded and waved a hand dismissing his cousin. Once his cousin was gone, he took a breath and slumped down in his chair. He needed to sleep, but he needed to write some letters first. It was going to be a while before he could rest easy.


	16. Girl Talk: Joanna IV

Joanna took a sip of water, rolled her shoulders and looked at her daughter. Cersei was growing into a beautiful young lady, and Joanna knew that soon enough talk of betrothals and marriage would come. For now however, there was little thought of that, there was only thought to making sure that Cersei was the best lady that she could be. Joanna took another sip of water, put the cup down. “Tell me Cersei, what is it you want to learn?” She could tell by the way her daughter’s eyes widened that Cersei was surprised.

“I’m not sure I understand, Mother.” Cersei replied. Joanna felt a slight pang there, when had she become Mother instead of Mama?

“What do you wish to learn? If I understood Septa Lena, you are finding the lessons on dancing and sewing somewhat boring. So, what is it that you wish to learn?” Joanna asked. She could not blame her daughter for finding those lessons boring, she had as well.

Cersei seemed shocked that she was actually being asked to give her opinion and Joanna felt another pang, had she and Tywin really created the impression that they did not want their children’s views to be heard? She had promised herself that she would never allow that to happen to her children as it had happened to her. Had she strayed so far from her thought process? Her thoughts stopped when Cersei spoke. “I’d like to know more about court etiquette, about how to hold a household together, like you do Mother, and I want to know more about history. I can dance just fine, everyone says so, and what good is sewing? I know how to sew; I don’t need to keep doing it.”

In her daughter’s words, Joanna heard herself, and she heard her father as well, a stubbornness and a refusal to conform to the rigid expectations that society had for them. She was at once both proud and worried.  Proud because her daughter was showing herself to be a true lion, and worried because she did not know whether this would hold her in good stead for the future. Joanna brushed a strand of her daughter’s hair behind her ear and then said. “Very well, and what household things would you like to know?” She could give her household tasks, ways of managing the accounts and bringing up her counting and arithmetic.

“I want to know how to tell how much grain is needed for bread making, how much money to put aside for winter, and how to tell when we need to top up the wine stock as well as how to tell when we need to bring in more clothes from Lys and Pentos. Those are the things that most interest me. As well as how to keep a detailed account of everything, the same way you do, Mother.” Cersei replied.

“Very well.” Joanna stated, she clapped her hands and two servants appeared before them. “Bring me the ledgers, and bring me a spare book.” She commanded, the servants bowed their heads and hurried off to get the things asked of them. As they waited for the books to be brought, Joanna turned to her daughter and said. “To tell how much of anything one needs, you must first know much of something is used on a regular basis within the castle. For example, with regards to bread, we use it every day, roughly twenty loaves are consumed by the main household a day, this consequently means that we need somewhere in the region of eight hundred loaves of bread for a given moon. This means that we need roughly three hundred dragons spare to pay for these loaves of bread. Now, if there are twenty people coming as part of a visit, how many loaves of bread would we need?”

Joanna knew that if this was Jaime, she was asking the question of he would leap into it before thinking, but Cersei had a contemplative look on her face, one that reminded her of Eddard. A few moments passed before her daughter answered. “You would first need to know whether the visitors had bread with their meal, which meal they had bread with, and how many loaves on average they consumed. Only then could you truly know how much you would need.”

Joanna nodded pleased, it was an obvious answer, but the number of lords and ladies who did not know that answer was astonishing, her own brother Stafford had never truly known the answer, that was why he remained at the Rock and not at his own holdfast. The doors opened and the servants entered with the two books. The ledgers were marked with a golden lion and a silver snake, whilst the blank book had only a red lion on the front. Joanna opened the ledgers to the first page, and saw that it was from the beginning of the year. “Come here.” She said, and Cersei moved her chair closer to where Joanna had placed the book on the table. She pointed to the figures before them. “These columns show the date, the amount of food consumed, the cost of the food, the amount spent for the food and the amount left at the end of the day. At the end of each week a total is counted and then written down. This done for every week and every moon, and at the end a grand sum is added and presented before myself and your father. We then pay the amount due.” Her daughter nodded and Joanna said. “Have a look through the book and see what stands out to you.” Her daughter moved forward and moved the book closer to herself. Joanna sat and watched as Cersei’s face scrunched up in concentration, she looked a lot like Tywin when she did that.

The pages crinkled slightly as they were turned, and her daughter scanned through them, looking and assessing, seeing and yet not commenting. Eventually she stopped, and Joanna saw that she was on the page for the last week. “What is this?” Cersei asked, her finger on a sum for two hundred dragons on the third day of the week.

Joanna looked at the page and then sighed. “That is what we call someone spending beyond their means.” She looked and saw that it was her brother Stafford who had spent the money and internally groaned, when would her brother learn?

“Why has Uncle Stafford taken such a big amount of money, Mother?” Cersei asked innocently.

Joanna was stuck on how to answer that question. She could not give her honest opinion, that her brother was a wreck who was failing at life and doing nothing to rectify his problems, but she could not and would not coat her answer in lies, her children deserved only the truth when it came to the extended family. “Uncle Stafford is a man who likes the nice things in life, and sometimes he spends more than he really should. This is a case in point. There will be times when members of the family use more than they should, and that is when you must use the figures you have taken note of to remind them of this. Otherwise they will not confess.”

Cersei nodded and then asked. “When it comes to handling the actual money used for these things, how do you not lose track of where the money is and where the money is coming from and where it is going?”

Joanna chuckled. “Now that is an interesting and difficult question. You see the money is stored within three secure vaults, that only myself and your father know the combinations to. And in order to get access to them, we must go through a series of checks. Now once we have gone through those checks, the money itself is slowly counted out, based on what is written in this ledger, and then it is placed into a series of bags and brought up out of the vault. Before payment is made, we make a note of the money being taken out of the vault.” She pointed to the second column on the page. “Then we make a note of who it is being paid to.” She pointed to the third column. “And finally, we make note of the amount left after payment is made.” She gestured to the fourth column. “Now that seems simple, but there are times when multiple payments must be made at the same time and therefore it becomes difficult to keep a full hold over everything that has been spent and that is being brought in. That is why we often have more than one person making note of the transactions and then once they are complete we ensure that the recordings of the transactions match up with each other, and if they do then all is sorted, if they do not then we must go through every one again, until they do.”

Cersei’s eyes had gotten as wife as saucers as Joanna had spoken, and Joanna had to chuckle once more, she remembered having a similar expression on her face when Lady Jeyne had explained this very same process to her as well. Slowly, Cersei replied. “So, once that is done, what happens next?”

“Then the books are looked over one more time and then they are filed away in a safe place.” Joanna explained.

Cersei nodded. “I think I understand now, Mother, thank you.”

Joanna smiled. “Now, I believe that you have some time to yourself for the rest of the day. I suggest you go to the library and do some reading on history if that is what you wish to learn. I shall speak to the Septa and to the Maester to sort some new lessons for you.”

Cersei beamed and lunged forward to hug her. “Thank you Mother, thank you!”

Joanna chuckled and kissed the top of her daughter’s head. “Of course. Now hurry along.”

Cersei nodded and pulled herself away before standing up and all but running out of the room. Joanna smiled as she watched her daughter go, and then she turned to one of the servants. “Bring Septa Lena, here would you?” The servant nodded, and a few moments later, the young Septa appeared before her. “Septa, I’ve summoned you here, because I wished to discuss my daughter’s education.”

The Septa visibly paled, but her voice was calm. “Of course, my lady.”

“From now on, Cersei will only have sewing lessons every third day of the week, and she will be taught more about the Faith’s religious theory and practises. Secondly, her dancing lessons will be done only on the seventh day of the week. The rest of the time she will be attending lessons with Maester Creylen.” Joanna said firmly.

The Septa looked as if she wanted to protest, but she merely nodded and said. “Of course, my lady.”

Satisfied, Joanna waved a hand and said. “You can go.” The Septa curtseyed and then walked out of the room. As she waited for her next meeting, this time with Kevan, Joanna thought about the letter she had gotten from Damion and the rumours he had heard about Septa Lena and her association with certain unsavoury elements of the Faith. Joanna wondered if perhaps they had made a mistake in bringing her here, but she had come highly recommended, perhaps she was overthinking things. Regardless, she would soon know where the Septa stood on certain issues.

The door opened and Kevan entered the room, he bowed and then sat down. Joanna looked at him and said. “You look exhausted. What has been happening out there?”

“Dorna is not doing  very well, I fear that this pregnancy might be the end of her.” Kevan said his face haggard.

There had been three stillbirths before this period, and Joanna knew it was starting to take a toll on Kevan and Dorna both. But Kevan knew his duty as did Dorna, she just wished it would not kill them. “I will go and see her once we are done here.” Joanna said.

“Thank you.” Kevan said simply.  After a moment, Kevan spoke. “I’ve had more information about our current problem near Tarbeck Hall.” Joanna leaned forward interested. “The men are sporting colours of red and black and green and silver. Colours not seen in these parts for a very long time, even before the Rains, and I personally think they are meeting there to throw us off. They are discussing things that make no sense.”

“Such as?” Joanna asked.

Kevan ran a hand through his hair. “The Rat, The Hawk and The Pig, and how they need to finish their work. They talk about dragons and the shepherd from the Dance as if he were still alive. They speak in riddles and nonsense. The men we have in their ranks say that their leaders are never shown, but that those who we see most often there, are the fanatics, the ones who most firmly believe in whatever mission it is they believe they have been given.”

Joanna raised an eyebrow. “But there is no identifiable mission as of yet?”

“No, unfortunately not.” Kevan replied. “We cannot attack them if we do not know what it is they are talking of doing. After all, madness is not treason, as much as it is against the law. We need definitive proof.”

“You don’t think they could have something to do with the Brotherhood?” Joanna asked, the Brotherhood, that organisation that had caused so much trouble, despite not being found by anybody. That was a growing concern for Tywin she knew, and if these people were part of that nefarious group, then she would do all she could to root them out.

“I do not know. It is possible yet, if that is the case, then surely we would know more about them. The Brotherhood is not as elusive as they might like to think they are.” Kevan reminded her, and Joanna smiled, thinking about the four nobles who had been arrested in the Riverlands and executed for treason.

“This is true, and yet one might think that they would have slipped by now. It has been over a year, and yet they remain elusive. We must figure out who and what these people are and then we must act.” Joanna said firmly.

Kevan nodded. “Of course.”

“Good, you may go now Kevan, go spend some time with Dorna.” Joanna said. Kevan nodded his head in thanks and got up and walked out of the room.

Joanna sat alone, Kevan’s information playing about in her head. This group that insisted meeting at Tarbeck Hall, or the ruins of that castle anyway, must be from the Westerlands. Nobody else would know just how significant the destruction of Tarbeck Hall had been to her and Tywin. Oh people outside the Westerlands knew about the Reynes, but everyone always forgot the Tarbecks. The Tarbecks had been more dangerous, because they had had Lady Ellyn with them, and she was always very smart. Green, red and black, those were colours of the Rat, Hawk and the Pig a finger up at the dragons and a hint of the Dance as well. This was something that would need more searching, but she was not exactly what to search. The mentions of the Shepherd were also troubling, but she was not sure why. The Shepherd had become nothing more than a murmur of history, not a real person as far as the maesters could tell, though the maesters themselves could not truly be trusted.

She sighed, then heard the knock at the door, wondering who it could be, she called out. “Come in.” There was a moment where nothing happened then the door opened and in walked Gerion, her husband’s youngest brother. “Gerion,” she said smiling. “What can I do for you?”

Gerion smiled, a winning smile, teeth and all. “Well, actually I think it’s more what I can do for you.”

“And how might you do that?” She asked. Gerion was very clever, and not always smart about how he went about being clever.

“Well, I think I might know one of the people who is serving in this spot of trouble in Tarbeck Hall.” Gerion replied simply.

“And who might that be?” Joanna asked.

“Jasper Serrett.” Gerion said.

“The same Jasper Serrett who aided in the seizure of those four men in the Riverlands? Is he a member of the Brotherhood then?” Joanna asked.

Gerion laughed, a great booming thing. “Oh heavens no, he’s not a member of whatever the Brotherhood is, but he is a great believer in the Rat, the Hawk and the Pig.”

“Didn’t he lose a brother to them?” Joanna asked, her knowledge was somewhat sketchy on that period, unless Gerion meant the incident that happened to cause Princess Aelora her life, in which case, she could see exactly why Serrett would be a member or believer.

As if sensing where her thought process had gone, Gerion nodded. “Not the rebels, but the others, the ones who were never found. He agreed with their principals, that the crown could never interfere in the basic right of the lords to decide who could and could not stand tall on their own right. If what I overheard is right, then Serrett and his allies are planning something similar.”

Joanna felt something hit her then, a memory, of Serrett and his intimacies long ago. “Where did you hear this Gerion?” She asked.

“In the Great Wine Cellar in Feastfires Village. Serrett and a few other men whose faces I could not see, where all there and they were discussing their meetings and how much pleasure it would give them to see the lion jump at old ghosts.” Gerion said.

“Then they are planning a sham. Do you know when?” Joanna asked.

“Unfortunately I do not. But I do know that they are going to be meeting at Tarbeck Hall once more, in around four days’ time. I would have men prepared and ready, if you wish to seize them.” Gerion said.

Joanna nodded, seizing these men would be good, it would give them a chance to learn more and perhaps figure out why an old Targaryen enemy was now coming back into play. “Thank you, you have been most helpful Gerion.”

Her goodbrother smiled. “Of course.” He bowed and then left the room.

 

 


	17. The Light That Never Was: Ned V

 

Ned blinked, trying desperately to get the last vestiges of sleep from his eyes. Lord Tywin had asked for them to wake up very early this morning, and Ned was still trying to remember whether he’d brushed his teeth or not. He glanced over at Jaime and saw that his foster brother was also struggling to keep his eyes open. Ned thought about hitting him on the arm, but decided against it when Tytos Brax entered the room smirking. Ned really didn’t like Brax, and as such, thought it wise not to show any sort of emotion. Thankfully, Jaime had managed to open his eyes and straighten up as well when he noticed Brax standing there. Brax nodded to them both and then Lord Tywin entered.

As always Lord Tywin was impeccably dressed, red and gold and the badge of the Hand of the King showing just how powerful he was. He looked like a King, Ned thought briefly, before he pushed such treason from his mind and listened as Lord Tywin spoke. “The hour is early, I know. There is much we must discuss before you can have the chance to relax once more. And so, we shall begin immediately.” Lord Tywin remained standing, his eyes roamed over them all and Ned found himself straightening his shoulders and his back. Lord Tywin finished his assessment and whatever conclusion he had reached made his mouth quirk upwards into a smile briefly, before he became serious once more. “Much is happening at court, Prince Rhaegar is growing into a smart young man, a man who has much potential, and as his friends you now must know exactly what it is that is expected of you. You must know how to identify those who are going to be of use to the Prince, and those who are best kept away from him.”

Ned thought it a bit odd to say they were friends with the Prince, Ned was more of the opinion that the Prince saw him and Jaime as little brothers, people to sympathise with and instruct, not to actually share his secrets with. That was for Arthur and Jon Connington, and Ned found himself feeling surprisingly jealous at the thought. He pushed that thought down and instead asked. “How will we do that, my lord?” Other than the lessons on etiquette he was not really sure how else they were going to tell who was being genuine and who wasn’t. And even then he was only eleven namedays old, how was he supposed to tell which of the Prince’s more age appropriate courtiers were really being appropriate or not?

Lord Tywin looked at him and then said. “A person’s face can give away much about their intentions.” Lord Tywin gestured for Tytos to come forward and the boy did so, standing before them. “Look at Tytos’ face when I say the following things.” Ned leaned forward curious as to what Lord Tywin would say, even Jaime was leaning forward. “There is little money in cattle farming, those who do it are foolish.” Ned forced down a gasp, cattle farming was a big money maker for the House of Brax, and then he saw the little flicker in Tytos’ eyes, something that was so quick it was gone before it had time to settle. “How did he react?” Lord Tywin asked.

“He got annoyed.” Ned said.

Brax looked at him surprised. “How do you know that?” Brax asked.

“Your eyes flickered when Lord Tywin said that cattle farming was foolish. Your eyes always flicker when you’re annoyed.” Ned replied.

“Good.” Lord Tywin replied. “Now watch what happens, Tytos I want you say something, only one of the things you say can be a lie. Boys I want you to watch his face.”

Ned scrutinised Brax’s face intrigued. “There are only three men who can beat me.” Brax began. “My brother Clement.” His face remained expressionless. “Ser Geraint Fell.” His face remained expressionless though his eyebrow went up. “Prince Rhaegar.” Here both eyebrows shot up, but not by much.

“Now, which one was the lie?” Lord Tywin asked.

 Ned thought about it for a second, he had seen Brax fight the Prince once or twice, both times the Prince had won. Brax had fought many others and only Arthur had been able to beat him. Who this Ser Geraint Fell was, Ned did not know, but Brax’s brother Clement was younger than him so…” Your brother Clement was the lie.”

“What makes you say that Eddard?” Lord Tywin asked.

“When he mentioned Ser Geraint and Prince Rhaegar, his eyebrows shot up, but when he mentioned his brother Clement, his face remained expressionless. I know that Clement is younger than him, and I know that Tytos has beaten almost everyone here in King’s Landing other than Prince Rhaegar and Arthur Dayne, therefore, it must be Clement that is the lie.” Ned reasoned.

Lord Tywin nodded and turned to Tytos. “And? Is he correct?”

Brax smiled. “He is. My brother Clement is too weak to be able to beat me.”

Lord Tywin smiled. “Very well then. Now, we shall try something different. Tytos go and stand next to the boys.” Brax did so, and Ned got the slight smell of something different, a woman’s perfume, he wondered what that meant. “Now, what I want you all to do is listen to my voice, listen to what I say and how I say it, and see if you can detect the lie.”

“What about your face?” Jaime asked.

“Right now my face is not important, Jaime, just listen to my voice.” Lord Tywin said softly. There was a brief pause and then Lord Tywin spoke. “My name is Tywin Lannister, I am Lord of Casterly Rock, Warden of the West, Shield of Lannisport, and Hand of the King. I grew up in the Rock and in King’s Landing and when I was eight namedays old, I spilled wine on my father, Lord Tytos Lannister. When I was ten namedays old, I made the same mistake and this time was beaten for it. When I was twelve namedays old, I nearly made the same mistake but this time stopped myself.”

All were silent, waiting, thinking, remembering. Ned thought through what he had heard, he did not think it was likely that Lord Tywin had ever been so careless as to spill wine on someone, let alone his lord father. That sounded more like something Ned himself would do. That Lord Tywin made the same mistake again was definitely unthinkable. He thought about it some more, and just as he was about to speak, Tytos answered. “I think the fact that you spilled wine when you were eight namedays old is the lie, my lord.”

Lord Tywin’s eyes sparkled then. “Why do you think that?”

Brax blushed then-oh he was very good! – “Because I do not think that you have ever been as clumsy as to spill something on anybody.”

Lord Tywin snorted. “And what about you two? What do you think the lie was?”

“I think it was that you nearly spilled wine on your father again when you were twelve namedays old.” Ned said. Lord Tywin gestured for him to give an explanation and so he did. “I think that perhaps the first time you spilled wine on your lord father, was definitely an accident, I think that perhaps it was a misstep. I think the second time, was deliberate.” He did a quick calculation in his head and said. “That was when the betrothal of Lady Genna to Emmon Frey was announced and so you reacted angrily. But doing it a third time, that does not suit you.”

Lord Tywin did not answer, instead he turned to Jaime and asked. “And what do you think Jaime?”

Jaime did not answer immediately, but when he did his voice was thoughtful, considered. “I think your claim that spilling the wine on Grandfather when you were eight namedays old was a lie. Grandfather was not a very smart man, and he did many things that were wrong for the family and the Westerlands. I think you spilled wine on him to ensure he did something stupid. Besides, when you were ten, you were already a page for King Aegon.”

Lord Tywin smiled. “You are correct.” Jaime grinned. “Of course, as you are my son you are more likely to know that than Eddard or Tytos. However, the two of you were not far wrong. But you must ensure you know more about the other person than they think you know about them. The nobles of court will always try and get more from you than they will ever give you. You must listen to their voice and look at their face to see how they are phrasing and looking when they speak. Only then can you know if they are lying.”

“But what if they are good liars? How do you know if they are lying then?” Jaime asked.

Lord Tywin smiled. “Even the best of liars have things that give them away. Take Ser Jacaerys for example, as Master of Whispers it is his job to lie and to cheat and to wheedle information out of people through that. However, when he tries to lie, he always looks one way and speaks the other way. It is something he has always done, and it is the way I know that he is never lying to me, or the King, because he always looks and talks in the same direction.”

“How long did it take you to figure that out my lord?” Tytos asked.

“Roughly two moons. It was easy enough with Ser Jacaerys but there will be those who it is not so easy to tell.” Lord Tywin responded. “Now, there are several courtiers coming to meet me now, I want you all to attend and listen as we talk. I want you to pay attention to what they say and what they do. And when they are gone I want you to tell me your observations.”

All three nodded and moved to their positions at the corners of the room. Five men entered the Lord’s Hall. Ser Gyles Belgrave a knight with good financial sense, Lord Myles Vypren a proud man and one who was good with intrigue from what Ned had heard, then there was Lord Leyton Hightower Lord of Oldtown and foremost authority on the Citadel, the others were people that Ned had never seen before. As Ned, Jaime and Tytos poured the wine and put the food on the table, they listened as Lord Tywin spoke. “Gentlemen welcome to the Tower of the Hand. I trust your journey was good?”

Lord Leyton as the most senior in rank amongst the gathered guests spoke for them. “It was a reasonable journey yes. There are more road works on the King’s Road then I remember from my youth. And I believe there has been a change of the guard at the Green Hand gate?”

“There has been yes. Ser Willem was growing old and tired. The King thought it prudent to replace him with someone younger and stronger.” Lord Tywin replied, his voice calm.

Ned chanced a look from where he was standing and saw that Ser Gyles Belgrave was staring at his cup with rapt fascination. “They are moving in quicker than we thought.” Belgrave said then.

“Ser, I do not think moving to that line of conversation right away is appropriate!” Myles Vypren said immediately.

Belgrave did not take his eyes from the cup. “Why ever not? We are here to discuss important matters with the Hand of the King, I think it only appropriate we discuss the most pressing concern now.”

“What of the other matters? Financial matters that is the reason why we came here in the first?” Vypren said.

Ned looked at the two men who remained silent, nameless, their faces hidden behind something or the other, they unnerved him. “I believe Ser Gyles raises a good point, my lords.” Lord Leyton said softly. “We must speak on this matter now.”

Lord Leyton’s face remained expressionless just like Lord Tywin’s but Ser Gyles looked eager, his eyes bulging, and Lord Myles looked hesitant. “Then let us talk.” Lord Tywin said.

Ser Gyles spoke first. “I think that the arrest of Lord Serrett was the smart thing to do. Such an unprecedented threat and the turn of action his group of advisors were taking was treason of the highest order. I believe that the information he has given Lady Joanna can only be of use to us. But we must find out more about where he got the original idea from. Does Lady Joanna have any more such information?”

Ned straightened slightly, he had heard murmurs of this, of an arrest being made, of several people dancing through the flames of truth and treason. Belgrave looked as though his eyes might literally pop out of his face, Ned had to keep his hand over his mouth to stop himself from laughing. “Lady Joanna has done much to try and get information from Lord Serrett, other than what he had told her originally, he has said nothing more. We are trying to get more information from the others who were arrested with him, but they are simply repeating his line. The Rat, The Hawk and The Pig. Three names that caused such devastation many years ago, they have returned it seems.”

Ned stifled a gasp. The Rat, The Hawk And The Pig were dangerous people, the histories all said so. Three men who were devoted to breaking down the social order, of destroying the very thing that the Kings of the Realm were trying to do. To make Westeros safe and protected from internal strife. They were fools and mad men. If they had returned, perhaps this might be something to really consider. Ned glanced at Brax and noticed that there was something strange playing in Brax’s face, there was a twitch and an itch and something else as well. Ned heard the quaver in Vypren’s voice. “What does this mean? How do we handle that? They were everywhere the last time they were around, and nobody ever knew who they were. There were rumours, but nothing else. We cannot act on rumours, that would bring war.”

Lord Leyton harrumphed. Ned risked a glance and saw that his face was marred in the light but looked dark. His silver hair gleamed. “There won’t be a war immediately. They do not have the resources nor the man power to make such a thing happen. What I am most concerned about is whether they are linked to anyone else.”

“As far as we have been able to gauge they are not.” Lord Tywin replied calmly.

Lord Hightower nodded, and for a brief moment Ned was reminded of his son Baelor, called Brightsmile for the laughter and joy he brought to people. Baelor was betrothed to Princess Elia, the two were due to marry very soon, and Ned knew Ashara was quite sad about that. “Then let us move onto discussing other things. Things we can control. Things such as the price of trading with Volantis.”

Ned was not aware that the price of trading was set here, he had always thought the master of coin had set the rates. Ser Gyles groaned. “For the love of the Seven, Leyton, we all know that the price of trading has stalled for the past year, but that’s because we have an embargo on Bravos. An embargo that means that prices cannot rise or fall without someone getting screwed. Why do you keeping bringing this up?”

There was genuine anger in Belgrave’s voice which surprised Ned, he’d have to do more reading on Belgrave, the name was familiar, but he couldn’t quite say why. “I bring it up because the two gentlemen here,” Hightower gestured down the table. “Have some very interesting news for us.”

One man leaned forward and Ned nearly threw up in his mouth. The man had a face covered in puss and boils, or half his face did. His teeth were surprisingly white though. “The Elephants are meeting with delegations from Bravos. They are going to try and negotiate their own private deal, that leaves Westeros on the outs. That allows the Iron Bank to send the Faceless Men.”

The second man spoke then, he remained hidden. “We recommend ending the embargo now, and charging higher rates for Braavosi goods. Making sure that they do not forget who controls their fortunes. Otherwise the price of trading will plummet.”

Ned looked at the three men, Vypren’s face looked as if it had been caved in, Belgrave looked as if he wanted to scream and Hightower, he remained neutral. He was better than Lord Tywin at this, Ned was convinced of it. “Where have you gotten this information from?” Lord Tywin asked.

“From within the Elephants circle itself. Act quickly my lords, before Westeros is facing two enemies, one of whom it cannot hope to defeat.” The two figures said before they stood up alongside Hightower and Belgrave and Vypren and walked out of the room. The ending to the meeting was sudden. It took Ned a moment to truly realise that it had ended. And then he looked at Jaime.

“You were daydreaming.” His foster brother whispered. And Ned was not sure whether to believe him or not. he looked at Lord Tywin, but Lord Tywin remained silent and was looking through papers, papers that had not been there before.

Eventually Lord Tywin spoke. “So, what did you make of them?”

“Vypren is too nervous, he is hiding something.” Brax said.

“Belgrave is angry and desperate for approval.” Ned said.

“Hightower is doing something more behind the shadows.” Jaime said and Ned was surprised to see his foster brother had been paying attention.

“And the other two men?” Lord Tywin asked.

Ned thought about the way the men had spoken and how he had supposedly lost track of time. And he said. “They were lying.”

Jaime and Brax looked at him surprised, but Lord Tywin smiled. “Very good.”

 


	18. Serrett The Ferett: Joanna V

The room was dark, the smell of shit filled the air, Joanna had to wrinkle her nose slightly to stop from vomiting. She knew the prisoner had lacked standards before, but she had never thought a noble could let themselves sink to such a level. She moved the torch to bring him into view. His hair was ragged, dark with streaks of grey, his face was battered from where he had resisted arrest, and his clothes were stained with all kinds of things. “Oh how the mighty have fallen.” She heard him say in a voice that gave off the impression of defeat, but was nothing more than him mocking her.

Jasper Serrett was a proud man, as all men of the Westerlands were. The Serretts especially. Their lands were Silverhill where there were copious amounts of silver mines that had made them rich beyond measure. Before they had been loyal bannermen to the Rock, but now, now the rot was evident and Joanna wondered how she had ever missed it. She inhaled, coughed and then spoke. “You know why I am here. You have given us information that has proven to be useful. I wish to know why you did not give this information before, when you had a chance.”

Serrett cackled, but it came out sounding like a hacking cough. “There never was a chance, there was only doing what they bid until I was caught. We all knew we were going to be caught. There was never any doubt to that. But we had to do it.”

“Why?” Joanna asked. “You are the Lord of Silverhill, only the Lord of the Rock and the King can make you do anything. What did these people have on you, to make you forget that?”

Serrett laughed again. “They had nothing on me, I am not so foolish as to allow them to have something on me. But they were very persuasive. They offered me things, chances, dreams, things that your lord husband would never have given me. And so, I took it. And once I did, there was never any returning from it. My fate was sealed, and I have accepted that.”

“Why did you decide to tell us about the troves?” Joanna asked. Serrett had told them about the areas where the group kept their gold and their silver, the funds for their treason. They had found several chests filled to the brim, and the moment they had seized them the activity had stopped.

Serrett looked, or rather squinted at her. “What day is it?” He asked.

“The third day of the seventh moon of the two hundred and seventy-fourth year since the conquest.” Joanna replied. “Why did you tell us about the troves?” She asked again.

Serrett inhaled, and then exhaled. “I told you about the troves because I wanted this thing to be over. I had grown tired of constantly moving from one place to another, of constantly having to hide in plain sight. Oh, it was fun to begin with, but I am an old man, tired. I do not want to constantly move from one thing to another, I cannot keep track all the time. And I wanted my family to be safe. These people, they did not think straight toward the end, and so I had to make them think straight.”

“And you think that by telling us about their troves you have done this?” Joanna asked not seeing the sense in his reasoning. People did not always respond well to losing their money.

Serrett seemed to see what she was thinking for he coughed. “Money was just a part of it. They can get their money back at any time there are plenty within the Riverlands and the Westerlands who would fund them again. No, by giving you their troves, I was giving you a way in, a way to properly see what was happening. And I take it that with your presence here that has succeeded. So, what more do you want from me?”

 Joanna moved the torch away from him, and allowed the room to be bathed in darkness temporarily, before bring it back. “I want to know what happened during these meetings. I want to know who the people are that approached you, and I want to know everything else.”

Serrett gave another hacking cough, and this time Joanna saw red spots appearing on his chin. “Ah, Lady Joanna always wanting to know more, always wanting everything to know, and to see. I suppose it would do no harm. Very well, I shall tell you what you want to know, but I do not think you or Tywin will like it.” Serrett gave another cough, and Joanna was briefly reminded of something her father had once said to her, as a child. _“Never let your desire for knowledge cloud your desire for sleep.”_ She had not understood what he had meant then, but since learning of this, she had come to understand better. Her bed was calling to her, but she could not allow her desires to get in the way of her duty.

Serrett finished coughing and then spoke. “These people never showed their faces whenever they met me, they always wore hoods and masks. Masks of crows and plagues and animals we consider evil within the Seven. They wore theses masks and they communicated through paper. Through letters and details, and through countless other things. They spoke of many things that would make your skin crawl, of breaking down the barriers of ensuring that power was with the nobility, where it should be. They spoke of ensuring that the dynasties of old were not replaced by the dynasties of the new people that the crown is favouring. During the meetings, we spoke of how the world was changing, and of how we were losing out. Of how the crown and Tywin Lannister were failing in their duty to prevent the people falling behind. We spoke of how we could handle this and of how to make the world right again.”

“How would you make the world right again?” Joanna asked though she was sure she knew the answer.

“Through war. Just as we had done during the reign of Aegon the Fortunate. War would force the King and his hand to the negotiating table and it would force them to consider what they thought was really worth fighting for.” Serrett said.

Joanna snorted. “Did you really think that this petty little rebellion, this treason would be enough to stop the crown from doing whatever it wanted? From prevented it from ensuring that the kingdoms were more united?”

Serrett exhaled, his chest expanding as he did so. “We never thought it would, but we had to try. I did not think it would, but I wanted to see. I felt young, I felt alive, more so than I have ever done before. There was something to this, and I wanted to see whether it would last. But as it was, we were foolish. We did not think that the Lannisters would come rushing to clear the mess, we were stupid. We should have seen that. You never liked leaving anything undone now did you, Joanna?”

Joanna bit back the retort that was forming on her lips, she knew that that was what he wanted her to do. Jasper had always been very good at baiting her, when she had been a little girl and he had been a young man, that had been one of the things that had attracted her to him at one point, before she had grown up. Now she looked at him and said. “You were all fools, committing treason for something that would never happen. Now, who else was there? We captured you, your brothers and your goodbrother. But I know there are more people out there, waiting and hiding. Who are they? Tell me and you might get off with a lighter sentence.”

Serrett said nothing for a moment, the crackling of the flames brought the only sound in the room. Then, with a huff and a puff he spoke. “House Bettley, House Clifton, House Estren, House Foote, House Jast, House Yarwyck and many more. But those are the houses in the Westerlands who were part of this little conspiracy.”

Joanna kept her face expressionless. But internally she was trying not to scream, that was a lot of houses, many more than she had first thought possible. And now, well now they would need to act quickly. She took a breath and then spoke. “Did all these houses share the same vision with one another? Did they all want to reduce the power of the crown?”

Serrett shook his head. “No. That was never on their mind. The main power brokers wanted to reduce the power of the crown, but these houses merely joined to discuss these things and because they were useful. Jast has men, some of the best fighters in the Westerlands come from House Jast. Bettley was the one who handled the administrative side of it all. Everyone else was there for the numbers and for their own private reasons. Reasons they never shared with me, but with the power brokers.”

Something about the words that Serrett was using sparked something in her memory. Something she had read once as a child. She looked at him and asked. “Power brokers? What do you mean?”

Serrett did something that might have been a grin, but she wasn’t sure. He coughed, blood spattered onto the floor. He wiped at his mouth, then spoke, his voice sounding like someone was eating nails. “The power brokers, the ones who had done this before, they are experts in bringing disparate and warring houses into alliance with one another, against a common foe. They are experts in ensuring that nobody has too much power over the other despite their rank and station. They are the ones who did this before, and they have come back.”

Joanna went over the words in her head, playing them over again and again, and then it came to her. The edges of a faded book, a world without end, chaos that continued despite the King’s best intentions and how the world had cried for the death of a beautiful Prince, and how Tywin had been silent throughout for days afterwards, for the loss of his master. She stared at Serrett and then whispered. “The Rat, The Hawk And The Pig. It is actually them? They are behind all of this?”

Serrett smiled. “Good, you’ve gotten it now.”

“Why? How? I thought they were slain when Prince Daeron launched his expedition against them?” Joanna asked, trying desperately to keep her voice calm, when Tywin learned that it was the trio who had taken his hero, well he would not react well at all.

“They could not be killed by some fool. Even the King could not find them. King Aerys and Bloodraven could not find them. They are returning, Joanna and you had best be prepared for their return, for when they come, they will not stop.” Serrett said, something like manic pride on his face.

Joanna stared at him and then as coldly as she could say, she said. “You are being executed for treason. On order of the King, I do sentence you to die. A guard will come and escort you to the courtyard.”

With that she turned and walked to the door, but before she left, Serrett called out. “Ask your goodsister about her goodfather. She will tell you something interesting I think.” Joanna said nothing but she walked out of the room.

Briskly she informed Kevan and Gerion and Genna and the red cloaks, she walked out to the courtyard with Cersei and Tyrion, and then they watched as Serrett was dragged out, he stumbled slightly, but nobody in the crowd said anything, they had all learned to remain silent on these matters. The block was put on the ground and Serrett was forced to kneel down and place his head on it. Joanna stepped forward and spoke. “Lord Jasper Serrett,  you are sentenced to death for treason, in the name of His Majesty, Aerys, Second of His Name, King of the Seven Kingdoms, Lord Protector of the Realm, and Defender of the Faith, I do hereby sentence you to death.” The sword came down and Serrett’s head rolled to the ground, stopping near the butcher who picked it up and moved to place it on a spike. Joanna nodded to Kevan who then took the children and walked away. Joanna looked at her goodsister and whispered. “Might I have a word with you in my solar?” Genna nodded and the two of them walked to the solar in silence, her goodsister was wearing red and gold, but she looked pale, something was wrong, another pregnancy no doubt. Joanna sat down as did Genna and then Joanna spoke. “How are you feeling, Genna?”

Genna laughed. “I am feeling sick, this babe has been causing me more trouble than any of the previous ones, and now I think Emmon has lost even more of his manhood than he had done before.”

Joanna raised an eyebrow, Emmon Frey was not the strongest of men, but even then, Genna rarely criticised him like this. “What has he done?” She asked.

Genna snorted. “What hasn’t he done? That man claims he wants to be his own man but is constantly moving off to do whatever it is that his father is telling him to do. Now he’s convinced that he now has to head over to the Riverlands to meet with some character who nobody has ever heard of, because his father has commanded him to.”

Even for Emmon that was bad. However, it had provided her with an opening and so Joanna took it. “Before he was taken to the block, Serrett told me that I should ask you about Emmon, he said that you’d have something interesting to tell me.” She paused and then asked. “Do you?”

Genna said nothing for a long moment, and then nodded. “Yes, actually. I mentioned this to Kevan before, but he said that it was nothing, but now with Serrett gone and with Emmon acting increasingly oddly, I think that now is the right time to mention this. I think that Walder Frey is planning something with other lords, something that has more than a tinge of historical action about it.”

Joanna suspected that this might have something to do with the Rat, the Hawk and the Pig, but she decided not to say anything, she would rather let Genna say what she needed to say. Genna was silent, fiddling with the hem of her dress, and then she spoke. “I think that Walder Frey is plotting some sort of treason. I know that when Serrett was brought in Emmon looked as white as a sheet. I’ve never seen him look that way. And he kept muttering about how he had to speak with his father, and how things were going to get a lot worse now unless he acted. And now he’s convinced he has to go to the Riverlands and he will not tell me why.” Genna rarely sounded worried about Emmon, indeed, Joanna often got the impression that her goodsister hated her husband, and who could blame her? Emmon was weak, and a fool, but this, this was different there was genuine fear in Genna’s voice, and Joanna could not blame her.

“Did Emmon say anything else? Did he mention what else his father had done? Lord Walder is a old man, but he is not a fool. He would have done something quite serious if it got Emmon worried, being that Emmon is quite slow.” Joanna said.

Genna laughed. “This is true, but well I think that there have been other things. But Emmon does not tell me, and usually the man cannot keep his mouth shut. It all started when this whole thing with the Brotherhood started I think, I didn’t say anything because I only noticed it when Serrett came. But I think that Walder Frey is mixed up with the Rat, the Hawk and the Pig.” At the astonished look Joanna must have made, Genna laughed. “I am not foolish, I know that brown, grey and silver are the colours of those three people, colours they made their own. I know that Emmon has always avoided brown paper. And now I think I know why. He does not want the association to be linked to him.”

“Do you think Walder Frey is involved with the Rat, the Hawk and the Pig, or do you think he is one of them? If so how? He was only a child when the first instance of their appearance is noted, and he was fighting alongside Prince Daeron at the battle.” Joanna said, she knew that for a fact because Tywin had always said how Frey had held back during the battle, and then suddenly it made sense. “You think he has been planning this for a very long time then. Why?”

“The Freys are a prideful people and they suffered greatly during the Second Blackfyre Rebellion, even though Walder’s father gave medicines that Prince Rhaegal needed to combat some of the madness that plagued him. I think they have been wanting to bring down the throne for some time. They always supported those who would be against strengthening the crown’s hold on things. And I think Walder is stepping up his plans now. I think that is why he wanted me married to Emmon.” Genna said.

Joanna thought about it for a moment and then asked. “Where is Emmon? Is he still here?”

“Yes,” Genna replied immediately. “He is not leaving until the morrow.”

“Make sure he does not leave tomorrow. We must ensure he never makes it to the Riverlands. For if he does, then he is lost to us.” Joanna said.

Genna nodded. “I will do all I can to make sure he remains here. And I shall help you prevent whatever idiotic plan he has now.”

Joanna nodded. “Good, thank you. You may go now.” Genna got up and left, leaving Joanna to ponder how the actions of the past still echoed throughout the future.


	19. Helpless: Tywin IV

Summer had brought with it the full scorching wrath of the sun and the heat. Windows were open, servants were waving fans, but still it was damnably hot. Tywin could feel the sweat pooling on his face, and as he looked at the other members of the council, he knew they were feeling the heat the same as him. Though the King seemed to be relishing it, smiling and laughing. That was a good sign, the King had too often as of late been serious and anxious, the death of his son Prince Jaehaerys had really put him into a spiral, but he had recovered somewhat. Perhaps this time there might be a healthy male heir, and the dynasty would be truly secured.

The King took a sip of wine and then spoke, stopping the chatter. “My lords, Braavos, the ever-growing concern, gnawing away at the chains we have placed around them. I would know whether we must consider pre-emptive action or whether the embargo continues to do its work?”

Tywin spoke then, knowing more about this than anyone else. “Looking through the accounts, Sire, the embargo continues to work well for us. Profits for the merchant guilds were up twenty percent on last year, with the greater exposure to Volantis and the cities further east without Braavosi interference really doing wonders for the economy. As for trade, closer to home, the Three Daughters and Pentos continue to demand more supplies from us and so our profits are growing ever larger.”

The King looked very happy with that, and rightfully so, to bring Braavos down from the giant-sized pedestal that they always put themselves on was something to be proud of. The King of course would not be happy until Braavos was a burning ruin, but of course doing so would disrupt the balance of power and so for now Tywin had managed to convince the King that keeping Braavos alive but crippled was for the best. The King took another sip of wine. “As for the Braavosi themselves, how are they responding to all of this? I am surprised they have not sent one of their foolish little assassins to try and do something to prevent this.”

Tywin agreed with the King, the Iron Bank had been oddly quiet, considering he had seen the reports that stated that their net income was declining that more and more of the merchants were slipping into an unknown state of poverty. Tywin looked at Ser Jacaerys, the master of whispers who replied. “The Braavosi are facing tough times internally. The current Sealord is experiencing several challengers to his throne, and as such is spending more time trying to prevent those challengers from removing him from power. Even the First Sword of Braavos has reduced himself to conspiring against his master.” Tywin looked at the King and saw that the man was fiendishly happy with that. “It also appears that the Iron Bank’s board of advisors has begun fighting amongst itself. Much of its custom has dried up and the cities and families that previously took loans with them have now completely refused to pay anything outstanding citing the reasonable explanation that the Bank cannot provide surety on their loans.”

Now that was something, Tywin suspected that this was one of the most grievous states that the Iron Bank had found itself in since its founding and no doubt they would be unaccustomed to such harsh times. They would make a mistake. It seemed that the King was of the same opinion for he said. “Would they collapse then? They have lost six major trading partners, Lorath is not strong enough to force through anything to meet the demand they previously had, and on principle the Iron Bank does not trade with Slaver’s Bay, so then they must be close to collapse.” There was a hint of something darker in the King’s words that made Tywin pause for a second, but there was no noticeable change in the King himself, and so he put the thought to the back of his mind.

“The Iron Bank is most definitely close to collapse, Sire.” Ser Jacaerys agreed. “However, it is being propped up by the Sealord and by the more well off within Braavos for the time being. The Braavosi are trying to get the Three Daughters to start their fight about the Disputed Lands once more, as of right now they have not been successful, but I am not sure how long the three cities will remain allies for, given their history.”

Tywin considered this and found that he agreed with Ser Jacaerys, Lys and Myr would always want more than what Tyrosh was willing to give them, the countless strewn bodies across the Disputed Lands was proof of that. However, Tywin did not think that the three cities hated one another more than they hated Braavos. For a city that claimed to be neutral, the Iron Bank had certainly done enough to create enemies. He supposed that was always the way for those with money. Or at least that was what that whore Ellyn Reyne had said before she had died. Tywin pushed that thought away and said. “Sire, I think we should allow Braavos to struggle on for another moon or so, before we move in for the kill. If we seize their assets on the coast, then they will be finished. We are already cutting them off from their fishing routes, their ships are being hampered by our ships and those of our allies. If we take the coast, then they will be done.”

“But why wait a moon or more to do that?” The King asked. “Why not get it done now, when they are on their knees?”

“Because when they are on their knees they can still get up, however, in a moon or two they will be falling over, and when they start falling over, we can remove their legs from under them to ensure they never get up again. In a moon or two their economy will be stumbling into despair, housing will become an issue, food will be an issue. They will have nothing.” Tywin said.

He could tell that the King wanted to go another course, there was the flicker in Aerys eyes that would always appear when he wanted to do something different to what he was being advised to do, it had appeared with Summerhall and it had appeared when they were boys, and now here it was again. Yet he was surprised when Aerys said. “Very well then, we shall give it two moons and then after that Braavos will fall.”

Tywin was still not sure how he felt about the fall of Braavos, but he kept that thought to himself. It was clear to him that the King wanted Braavos to fall and therefore there would be nothing stopping him from achieving that. Deciding that there were other matters that needed addressing, Tywin spoke. “Your Majesty, there is another issue that is quite pressing. That is the issue of the land dispute between the Brackens and the Blackwoods. It appears that they have not reached a satisfactory conclusion to the dispute, despite numerous attempts to do so, and now it seems as though fighting is imminent.” Tywin did not think there would actually be fighting between the two, but you never knew with those two houses, and besides he could tell the King was deeply interested.

The King sat, took another sip of wine and then spoke. “What is this dispute about again? Is it the hill boundary or some other boundary?”

Tywin looked down at his notes. “It is about the boundary between the Land road and the Southern Edge. Bracken claims that that boundary should be moved several miles southwards, as right now it cuts through several forests where there is good game, whilst Blackwood argues against that, stating that the boundary is perfectly fine where it is and that Bracken merely wants to move it so that he can meet his whores.”

The King roared with laughter at that, his chest shaking with the effort, the council laughed with him and then stopped when he did. “Well? Is that the reason?” Tywin smiled, it was just like his friend to find something scandalous in the pressing issues of the time.

Tywin took a moment to think, he had spoken briefly with both men, and though Bracken insisted that that was not the reason, Blackwood said he had had it from Bracken’s wife that it was, and Tywin had spoken to the wife, and she had said something along the lines of the same. “I have done some reading into this situation and from what I can tell, Your Majesty, is that the boundary was set during the reign of King Daeron the Good, when Brynden Rivers was advising the King. The boundary does cut into what has traditionally been Bracken patrimony, but over time the forests have been claimed by neither side and have been ignored. Indeed, the Rygers had in the past settled there to hunt and take up contracts raiding into either Bracken or Blackwood land depending on who was paying them.”

The King snorted. “So, really the land belongs to the Rygers then does it?”

Tywin thought about it for a moment and said. “In a manner of speaking, yes it does, Sire.”

The King nodded, his eyes becoming hard and then going milky. “Very well, write to Ryger tell him to come to court to present evidence on why he should not be turned out of the forest. If he gives a satisfactory answer, then he will get the forest.”

Tywin was not surprised that this was the course of action that the King had chosen, Aerys might be kin to the Blackwoods but he hated them and the Brackens in equal measure and was sure to spite them both. Tywin made a note of what the King had said, and then listened as Lord Chelstead spoke. “Sire, whilst I am sure your decision is the right one, do you not think it is asking for trouble to give the forest to an unknown house that so far has played the role of marauders and sellswords and nothing else?”

Chelstead was married to a Bracken, or had a Bracken for a mother if Tywin remembered correctly, and so he hid a smirk behind his cup. The King glared at Chelstead, causing the other man to quail. “Bracken and Blackwood have been fighting over some piece of land for ever. I will not allow their quarrels to continue any more than I would allow your quarrel with Darklyn to continue.” Chelstead had the sense to blush at that. “Ryger might be nothing more than a sellsword as might his entire family, but they have paid their taxes, they have served their King during times of war, and now they are owed something. I will give them this forest and ensure they act as a buffer between two houses that should really know better.”

Chelstead bowed his head in acknowledgement of this, though Tywin suspected that there would not be an end to this. The King stood then, and so they all stood up. “I am going to retire to my rooms. Tywin, I wish to see you once the meeting is over.” The King pushed the chair back and walked out of the room. Once he was gone they all sat down and as expected, Chelstead spoke.

“The King will cause a war between Bracken and Blackwood if he keeps going like this. Ryger is nothing more than a sellsword, and the forests that Bracken is on about are valuable that is the reason Ryger has not been ridden off yet.” Chelstead said.

Tywin looked at Chelstead and said. “The King has made his mind up Qarlton, I hope you are not considering challenging His Majesty’s choice?” That would not end well for Chelstead or his family.

It appeared Qarlton knew that as well for he swallowed then quickly said. “Of course not. I would never think to do that. I will need to look through the accounts again to make sure Ryger is a decent man.”

Tywin looked at Pycelle, who mouthed the word Bracken to him, and Tywin nodded in acknowledgement of that. So, there was an interest there. He turned to Staunton. “Lord Staunton, there have been complaints coming in about the lack of actual order within your area of the Crownlands, that does not look well for a master of laws. Would you care to explain how this has happened?”

Staunton visibly paled. “I…I have been trying to sort the issue out, but have not had the success I would have liked.”

Tywin snorted, not convinced by the response whatsoever, he knew Staunton and knew him to be a man who took the word no as well as a whore monger did. “Be truthful Simon, you are the Master of Laws, with the full force of the King behind you. So, tell us why are you not enforcing the law as it should be? Why are there beggars roaming the land of Rooks Rest and why are there men and women being raped by the dozen. What are you trying to prove?”

He had his suspicions about Staunton, always had done. There was something about the man that just smacked of something wrong, of something rotten, what it was he did not fully know, but it was there. Regardless, he waited for Staunton to respond, and when he did, he gave the expected answer which only served to heighten Tywin’s suspicion of him. “You are right, my lord hand, I will ensure that this mistake is not done again.”

Tywin decided not to press that matter, and so nodded. He then turned his attention to another matter. “Have you found someone to replace Ser Marlon as Justice of the Blue Fork?”

The Blue Fork was a very fertile region and a profitable one to boot, which made ensuring law and order there a top priority, Ser Marlon had died on duty, he had been a firm hand someone who had served since the time of King Aegon the Fortunate, and so was well used to donning armour to handle the citizens of the Blue Fork. His death was a great blow. Lord Staunton replied in a hesitant manner. “I have selected three candidates to replace him. One is well known to us all, his name is Ser Garlan Peake, a decent man and one who has a firm record on justice. The other two are unknown to most here, but they are good men with reasonable records.”

“Put Ser Garlan in the role. The other two are not ready for such a demanding job.” Tywin said instantly. Lord Staunton nodded and then Tywin said. “This meeting is at an end.” He knew there were other things that needed to be discussed, but he could handle that on the morrow, for now he needed to speak to the King about what he had learned. They stood nodded to one another and walked out of the room. The red cloaks followed him through the corridors, passed paintings of dragons and past Targaryens, passed courtiers who were drinking and making merry, and passed countless others. Tywin came to the King’s chambers, nodded to Ser Harald and Ser Barristan who were guarding the room and entered. He bowed before the King and took the seat opposite him.

There was a moment of silence and Tywin noticed Ser Gerold’s hulking figure in the background. “What word has there been of what Lord Frey has been doing?” The King asked immediately.

“He has been complaining constantly. To anyone and everyone. He wrote to me several times a week before giving up. He wanted his son back at the Twins but he would not say why, he refuses to meet, stating he has no reason to. In short he is trying desperately to act the outraged lord, when everything we have found suggests he has been funding the little gatherings near Castamere.” Tywin said, barely able to hide his disgust.

The King nodded. “What reason would he have for doing this though? I do not understand, his house is one of the richest within Westeros, especially in the Riverlands. Why would he want to fund people whose very existence is against his?”

Tywin had spent a long time thinking about this very issue. He had known Walder Frey since he had been a child and he had never liked the man. He had found him grasping and ambitious and somewhat of a fool, a clever one, but a fool nonetheless. “I suppose he harbours resentment for what happened during the Second Blackfyre rebellion. Yet his father was one of the people who informed Bloodraven of what was going to take place, so I cannot see how he would hold a problem there. I think he is doing this out of sheer opportunism, hoping to make something out of nothing. He has not said anything to the people I have sent to question him, and Emmon is saying nothing.”

The King’s chest expanded as he sighed. “Do you think that this could be a misdirection? Walder Frey does not strike me as the sort of person to do anything without an iron clad guarantee. He has lived for a long time and he continues to produce children, perhaps one of them has begun considering where they can make their fortune, and he is trying to protect them.”

Tywin considered this. “A reasonable suggestion, Frey is known to value family, though he has many offspring, I am not sure how well he knows all of them. If Emmon would just talk we might be able to sort this whole thing out without needing to resort to other methods.”

 The King hummed. “I think we shall need to press him. I do not want anyone else knowing of this. For it will make us look weak if they find out that we do not know. I want the names of the three main leaders before this year is out.”

“And you shall have them, Your Majesty.” Tywin said. The King nodded and motioned for him to leave. Tywin got up and walked out of the room, making a slow progress back to the Tower of the Hand, his mind racing with possibilities.


	20. Pound of Gain

The night was dark, the torches were burning, brightly enough to ensure that people could see, but not enough to allow them any access to anything that he did not want them to see. Jonos had learned long ago that it was better to have partial light than full darkness or brightness. There were things a man could do in the partial light that he just could not do in the light or dark properly. Right now, he simply wanted to tear his hair out and scream.  The Blackwoods were always going to be a problem, he had long ago accepted that, but this, this was something else altogether. He scratched at his eye and sighed.

“Well?” He asked. “How bad is it?”

Maester Poole took a look at the paper and then said. “The Blackwoods have sided with the Rygers properly my lord, and they are now raiding into the southern edges of the Hanging Forest. The people of the forest are growing desperate.”

Jonos rubbed a hand over where he felt as though there was a developing ache. “And how many men do we have currently patrolling the area?” This had been a constant fixture of his life since he could remember. Fighting the Blackwoods be it either with words or with swords. There had been a time when he had been friends with Tytos Blackwood, but that time was long gone now. Twenty years dead, if he remembered correctly. Maester Poole looked at the notes again and said. “Around thirty men patrolling the boundary. But Ser Harras reports that he thinks it might not be enough.”

Jonos wanted to yell. Ser Harras was an old git of a man who had nothing but bad things to say about anything and everything, Jonos really wondered what his father had seen in him all those years ago. And the more he thought about it, the more he wondered what he continued to see in him. “Ser Harras continually thinks that we need more men patrolling the area. Personally, I am starting to think he wants to ignore the evident fact that he is an old man whose grip on his men is failing. Tell me did he ever deal with those men who stepped over the line and actually raped those women?” Jonos might not like the Blackwoods, but he would not tolerate the rape of innocent women. Even if they were heathen worshipping women.

Maester Poole smirked. “He had not the last time I asked. But fear not my lord, Ser Davos is making sure that those things are being taken care of.”

Jonos nodded, Ser Davos would always make sure that the mess Ser Harras left behind was cleared up.  That was why Jonos kept him, despite the fact that Davos was nearly blind in both eyes and had a problem with drink. He was a damned good soldier. Jonos took a moment and then turned to the other man in the room with them. “Harold, what do you make of all of this? Do we have enough food and supplies to see through another year of fighting?” Jonos did not want to fight for another year, he knew that the moment the fighting stopped if it stopped next year that things would be bad. The crown would not appreciate that.

Harold Rivers was his bastard brother, a man known for his fiery temper, and his precision with numbers, it was why despite the protestations of his mother and his wife, Jonos had employed him as his steward for the past five years. And why their father had kept him around as well. Harold took a moment to consider the question, his face scrunched in concentration, the scar he had gotten whilst fighting the Blackwoods five years ago, shining in the dim light. Eventually he spoke. “I think that we need to focus more on the Leaving Hills than the Hanging Forest. The Hanging Forest will always be a problem, but it is one we can manage. Should the Blackwoods get it into their heads to try something on the Leaving Hills, then we are finished. They can send men through the passages and into the land proper and we will have nothing to stop them with.”

“So, would you suggest diverting resources from the Hanging Forest to the Hills then? And if so, where does that leave us supply wise?” Jonos asked. He had a rough idea of where it left them, but he was not sure whether he truly wanted to have his own worst fears confirmed.

Harold did not hold back, as Jonos had come to expect of his brother. “We would just about  be managing to keep everything together. There would be areas where we would enter the red. We are running out of bread, and salt, but we have enough meat for another five moons, and another water for eight moons. We have enough gold to purchase bread and salt though, but not enough to continue paying the troops for another eight moons. If we move toward the Hills instead of the Forest, we might ease up on burdening our resources, and find enough to extract something of worth from the mines.”

Jonos nodded, he had always known that sooner or later the mines would come into play. He had just hoped that they would be able to avoid using them this early. He did not think his allies would appreciate that. “Very well. Move resources to the hills then.” He would need to move out and deal with Blackwood first himself as well. “Where is Blackwood in all of this? What is that fool doing?”

“Blackwood has been communicating with his allies in the north and the east. He is doing all he can to paint himself as the victim here my lord. In some cases, he is succeeding, Lord Royce has promised him aid. But in others he is being ignored. Lord Stark has refused to get involved.” Maester Poole said. “He will venture out to fight should he think that would win him the day.”

Jonos nodded. “Very well. Is my visitor here?” He felt slightly nervous about this and he did not know why. It was not as if he was some sort of simple child anymore, to be impressed by the aura of the man. still, there was something there.

“Yes. Shall I show him in?” Poole asked.

“Do so. And I want both of you here as well.” Jonos said, he did not trust the man, even if he might be an ally.

Poole bowed and straightened before walking out and returning a few moments later with a man dressed with in dark leathers, a brown hawk on his tunic. “Lord Jonos.” The man said bowing. “I hope you are well.”

“Well enough. What did your father want?” Jonos asked.

Walder Rivers smirked, a smirk that constantly made Jonos feel scared as if he was a little child again, and not the lord of an old and powerful house, one that was far older and more respected than House Frey. “He wanted to make sure that you had not forgotten the deal you had made with him.”

Jonos stiffened. The deal, it would always come back to that fucking deal. Jonos sometimes wondered why he had made that deal. He had three daughters who he loved very much, but there were times when he wondered whether the seven were cursing him for some sin committed in his youth. He had no son, no son to inherit his titles, and now there was all sorts of trouble that might be coming from this fucking deal. It was through gritted teeth that he said. “I remember the deal just fine. You did not need to come all this way to make sure of that. Some might say you have wasted your time.”

Walder Rivers smirk widened. “Oh, I would not say that. You see, the crown has started watching my father and his heirs. Every move they make is reported to the King, and as such his movements have been restricted. But mine have not been, and so I have come here to discuss the deal once more.”

A stir of movement to his side made him aware of Maester Poole’s movements. Jonos held up a hand, he did not want or need some sort of incident being caused now. Instead, he forced himself to push down the anger that was growing within him and asked. “And what elements of the deal do you wish to discuss? To be clear, it is you and not your father who wishes to discuss this deal?” It was crucially important that they got clarification on that point. If it was Rivers who wanted to discuss the deal and make a new one, then Bracken could force more favourable terms on him and then run roughshod over Frey at a later date, but if it was Frey himself who wanted to discuss the deal, then Bracken knew something was approaching.

“I am acting with my father’s blessing.” Rivers said. That was deliberately vague and could have meant anything. Jonos pushed down the urge to snarl.

“Very well. Go on.” Jonos stated.

Rivers’ mouth straightened, he was talking business now, the taunting would not be present. “Well first of all, we wish for you to move your troops from the Hanging Forest to the Teats. Move the troops there and we shall provide better cover than we can now.”

There were Frey interests near the Teats, and a daughter or a son of Walder Frey lived there as well, paying an annual tribute to Jonos. No wonder Rivers had come; this child of Frey’s was one of his favourites. “Moving my men there would leave my right side exposed. I do not know if you have been kept informed of how this conflict is going, but the Blackwoods are pushing hard on the right, they are not leaving anything unchecked.”

“The Blackwoods are going to be changing course soon enough. We’ve had it on good authority that they will be marching toward the Teats.” Rivers said. Belatedly, Jonos remembered that there was a Blackwood who was married to one of Frey’s numerous children.  Perhaps this was properly solid evidence then.

“And if I move my men to the Teats, there would only be thirty moving there. The rest are currently defending other passageways. What do you know about the Royces promising support to the Blackwoods?” Jonos asked.

“That is a bluff. Yohn Royce does not like Tytos Blackwood, and does not care enough about the Old Gods to ever get involved in such a conflict as this. Besides, Stark has decided not to get involved, therefore none of the other first men houses will ally with Blackwood unless you are foolish enough to attack one of their godswoods.” Rivers responded.

“Then it is a good thing I am not a fool then.” Jonos said. He might consider worshippers of the Old Gods heathens deserving of death, but he would not attack a Godswood. He had too much respect for the places, a respect his mother had instilled in him from a young age. He knew Harold did not share his views, but Harold could suck an egg, he was a bastard not the lord. “What else?” Jonos pressed, he knew that there would be more, there always was with the Freys.

Rivers smiled. “When the time is right, you will do as agreed and raise your banner in rebellion against the crown. The time is fast approaching when the true lords of the Seven Kingdoms will come together and break the back of the Iron Throne, restoring order to how it was before.”

Jonos hesitated in his agreement here. He firmly believed that the best way to get a resolution that was favourable to his family was by reducing the power of the crown. But going as far as Frey and his associates wanted, that was something he was not sure about. He thought through it some more, thought about the guarantee of his daughter ascending the Bracken throne and decided to nod. “Very well. And when does your lord father believe the time will be right?”

“In a year. The tension between the King and his hand is growing ever more obvious, they will not be able to hold on for much longer.” Rivers said.

Bracken felt a momentary chill and then nodded. “Very well, anything else?”

Rivers shook his head and said. “I must take my leave, there are others I must speak to.” With that he stood and walked out of the room.

Bracken watched him leave and waited until he had received confirmation that the man had left before he turned to Poole and Harold and asked them. “What do you think?”

“I think he is lying.” Harold said immediately.

Jonos gestured for his advisors to move more in front of him and when they had done that asked. “What makes you say so?”

His brother straightened. “There is something about his manner that seems off. His father and brothers are being watched, but somehow he seems less concerned about that than ensuring he made his way down here to discuss some deal with you. It does not fit.”

Jonos nodded. “And yet we have struck our deal with them, and if  the Blackwoods are truly going to be alone in this fight, they will head for the Teats, it is what they would do after all. Go for the teats, the only part of a woman Tytos Blackwood has ever seen.”

Harold grinned at that, but his voice was still incredibly serious as he replied. “My lord, begging your pardon, but moving to the Teats when the Rygers are now firmly allied with the Blackwoods would be madness. It makes more sense in my opinion to move the men from the Hanging Forest to the Hills. That way the mines are protected.”

Jonos acknowledged that with a grunt. “True enough, and yet we are allies with the Freys now, we cannot exactly leave them to rot. Even if that is what I would like to do.” It was true, there was a certain art to this diplomacy business that he had slowly begun to learn. “The Teats are important as well, for symbolic reasons if nothing more.”

“Perhaps speaking with some of the lesser lords near these areas could help settle the problem?” Maester Poole asked.

“What do you mean?” Jonos replied.

“Send word to Vypren and to Piper and others. Those we know would be more amenable to fighting alongside us against the Blackwoods, and to the minor knights with men. Send them toward the Teats, offer them the loot of the Blackwood lands and move from there. They would be foolish to not take that offer up.” Maester Poole stated.

Jonos considered the suggestion, considering how inactive Hoster Tully had been in handling the current dispute, it could be a smart solution. After all Tully, had always favoured Blackwood more in their disputes, and so now would be the best opportunity to get back at the man as well. It was not like Tully had made allies out of the men his father had previously alienated. He looked at Harold and his brother nodded. “I think it would make the most sense. We must focus on protecting the hills. Leave the Teats to others and cause Hoster Tully to sweat.”

Jonos nodded. “Very well, send word tonight.” There was a brief pause and then he said. “You may retire for the night.” The two men bowed and walked out of the room. Jonos remained sitting where he was, tiredness seeped into his bones. He did not know how much longer he could go without something major happening. This war had gone on for a long time, that the crown had allowed it to become a properly armed conflict did a lot of arouse his suspicions. He did not think this was something Tywin Lannister would do, Jonos knew Lannister, he was clever, but not this clever. This sounded more like something a son of Jaehaerys the Frail would do, and as such, Jonos was very much uncertain of how to handle everything. As he rubbed the sleep from his eyes, he decided it would do him no good to remain here. He was about to stand up when a guard walked in. “What?” He demanded tiredly.

The guard looked scared. “There is someone here to see you, my lord.”

“At this hour? Tell them I will see them tomorrow.” Jonos replied briskly.

Before the guard could respond, another figure stepped into view. In the dim light, Jonos could not quite make out their face, but there was a familiar smell about them. “I do not think you would want to do that.” The voice said.

Jonos felt himself go cold all over. “Leave us.” He said to the guard, the guard bowed and hurried out. He turned back to the new man and said. “I must be a popular member now, considering I have been visited by another high-ranking official.”

The man did not come into view, but the smell grew stronger, and Jonos felt as if he was going to gag. “Do not flatter yourself. I have come with word from our master.”

Jonos stiffened, this was not good. “What does he want? I have done everything he has asked of me. I cannot do more, not without raising proper suspicion.”

“He wants you to continue as you are. And he wants you take money from Frey and ensure it makes it safely across the sea.” The figure said, his voice sounding distant, despite the fact that Jonos could see him in the pale light.

“He wants me to rob Frey? Why? I thought things had been sorted there?” Jonos asked, hating how nervous he sounded.

“Just do it. And do it quickly. Walder Rivers will not make it to his next destination. You are to have men prepared waiting for him to fall.” The figure said.

“Where is he going?” Jonos asked.

“Oldstones, to meet the old witch. He will never make it there. You are to make sure that your men take the riches he has on his person, do you understand?” the voice asked.

“I do. I will not fail.” Jonos said, a cold sweat breaking out on his face.

“Good.” The figure said, silence fell and a door slammed shut. Jonos slumped onto his chair, knowing he would not get any sleep now. Not with the smell of pig in his nostrils.


	21. The Relic Part 1: Jaime V

****

Jaime shifted slightly, the chair creaked. He rolled his shoulders, he blinked, and he looked at Dany, she looked at him and grinned, he grinned back. They both turned to look at the maester as he spoke. “Aegon the Third came to the throne after a period of great chaos. The Dance of the Dragons was not a dance so much as a bloodbath. Brother fought brother, and father fought son, as the greatest beasts to ever grace this world fought one another in the sky. Many people lost their homes and their livelihoods and loved ones to the whims of a treacherous vassal of the Targaryens. The rightful succession was denied and the world burned for it.”

Jaime had heard Ned speak about the Dance of Dragons with the Prince, and as such he knew something of why it had happened, but still he asked. “Why were there so many people who were opposed to Princess Rhae…Rhaenyra becoming Queen? After all, King Viserys had declared her his heir, and as King his word was law. Nobody should have opposed that, even if he had a son.”

Maester Kennett nodded. “You are right of course, master Jaime, but you see there were many people who thought that a woman could not inherit the throne, that she should not inherit the throne. For they thought that the Great Council of One Hundred and One at Harrenhal had sorted that matter for them, when the lords of the realm chose Viserys over his cousin Rhaenys. They forgot to realise that Viserys was not his grandfather, and whereas the Old King had more diplomacy in him than others might have done, Viserys was always very firm when it suited him.”

“And so they fought a war because some of the lords ignored their King’s wishes?” Dany asked sounding deeply disturbed. “That’s not right whatsoever.”

Maester Kennett nodded again. “Indeed not Princess.” The maester paused. Unlike Pycelle he was not an old man, he was young, Jaime imagined him to be around thirty namedays old. Just like Papa, he had short brown hair and a slight beard as well, and dark brown eyes, eyes that crinkled when he laughed or smiled. He was a nice man. “After the death of Queen Rhaenyra and the victory of her brother Aegon, there was a brief period where all seemed lost. But the supporters of Queen Rhaenyra rallied to her son Aegon the Younger, even though he was a prisoner of his uncle. They fought on and on, and as the dragons were descending into nothingness, Aegon the Second died. His nephew married his daughter Jaehaera as a means of healing the divide. But the divide remained.”

Jaime had heard this from Ned as well and so it was with some confidence that he said. “There were supporters of both Aegon the Second and Rhaenyra on the small council, on the regency council and at court during Aegon the Third’s minority. They fought and bickered and there were several times where the young King found his own life in grave danger.”

“Just so.” Maester Kennett said smiling, Jaime felt himself flush with pride. “Lord Peake was the main person who wished for more than was his due. He wanted his daughter married to the King and so, he did all he could to drive a wedge between the King and his young Queen. He spread rumours, he did all sorts of other things. It is believed that he was responsible for her death. It was his brother who served on the Kingsguard when she fell.”

“Please tell me that he was punished!” Dany asked her voice filled with anger.

“He was, but not in the way that most traitors would be. He was dismissed from his post and exiled to Starpike and then slowly but surely saw his influence and the influence of his family stripped to the bone. For sixty years after his fall from power, no Peake ever set foot in King’s Landing. But Peake was not the only one who played the game during the regency. Lord Manderly played as did his brother, Maester Munkun who was the Grand Maester was the greatest traitor of them all. You see he did much to break the power of the crown, placing his family and his friends in positions of power and looking the other way when they committed abuses of power in the name of the crown. Munkun was the one who sent the Kingsguard to try and arrest Larra Rogare the wife of the King’s brother, the future Viserys the Second, and he was the one who ordered the inquest into the Pale Heir. As such when Munkun died, it is said that King Aegon breathed a great sigh of relief.” Kennett said.

“What was Aegon like when this all happened?” Jaime asked. He could not imagine what the young King must have gone through or what he might have felt. Being King, but having no power whatsoever to do anything but sign and agree to the decisions of adults who did not know anything but their own desire for power. He would hate that.

“He was a shy and retiring young man, according to the memoirs of Maester Loren. He preferred the company of his friend Gaemon and when Gaemon died, he preferred the company of his true brother Viserys. He did not like anyone touching him even in a friendly embrace. And he did not cry. He never cried, even when his wife died. When the regency ended, he is said to have done the one thing that reminded people of his father, the illustrious Prince Daemon. He strode into the council chamber fully armoured, accompanied by the Kingsguard and his brother and grabbed Lord Rowan by the scruff of the neck and threw him to the floor and sat in the King’s chair.”

“Rightly so.” Dany said with great fervour.

“Indeed.” Maester Kennett said. “King Aegon spent the rest of his reign trying to fix the mistakes made by the regents and his own family. He and his brother brought new methods of taxation to the realm, they built roads and developed houses for the poor. They did much, but they were hampered by some who wished for the power of the dragons to never reach great heights.”

“Why?” Dany asked her brows furrowed, Jaime thought she looked pretty. Well she always looked pretty, but especially so now.

Maester Kennett took a deep breath. “Because there are always those lords and nobles who wish for their power to be protected, who fail to realise that the best way for the people to progress and be kept safe is for the crown to have more power. If left to their own devices the nobles will do all they can to keep the people on their knees, and that is not good for anyone. King Aegon and Prince Viserys realised this and they tried to change it. But there were times when they faced the most stringent opposition, particularly when people started claiming to be King Aegon’s uncle Prince Daeron returned from the dead.”

Jaime gasped. “People actually did that? Why? Please tell me they didn’t get any support!”

Maester Kennett sighed. “They got support, and they did it because they felt they could. Nobody had found his body at the Tumbleton and so they felt that this was the best opportunity they would get to ensure proper recognition for their efforts. They were all false of course, but they caused some great panic for the King and for his family. Especially Princess Rhaena.”

“His sister? But I thought she was betrothed to the King’s older brother Lucerys before his death.” Dany asked.

“She was Princess, and though none can ever truly say what their feelings were for one another, it is noted by many of the courtiers at King Viserys court that Princess Rhaena and Prince Daeron cared for one another greatly. It is possible that this might simply have been affection between cousins, but there are those who think it otherwise. Regardless, these impostors came and caused great trouble for the King and his brother. And the only peace it is said the King got was when he married his second wife Queen Daenaera, for it is said she was the only person who did not treat him as the King, but as her husband and her friend. And for a boy who had grown up without any friends, that meant more than anything else.” Maester Kennett said.

“And they had five children, didn’t they?” Jaime asked, he always got somewhat confused with the naming of the Targaryen children, they reused a lot of names, but so too did the Lannisters.

“They did. And they got over the King’s fear of being touched through love and through hard work.” The Maester replied.

There was a brief pause and then Dany asked. “What happened to King Aegon’s sisters? Baela and Rhaena, what did they do once the dance finished?”

“Princess Baela was married to her cousin Lord Alyn Velaryon. The marriage is said to have been a happy one and they had a great many children. She was greatly scarred by her ordeal fighting in the Dance, but she retained a hardy character and often served as a representative for her brother on diplomatic missions to the Free Cities and elsewhere in Essos. It was Princess Baela who convinced her brother not to invade Dorne, stating that the cost of the war would far exceed the potential benefit.” Maester Kennett said. He took a breath, then continued. “As for Princess Rhaena, the regency council had agreed beforehand that as a measure of peace she should be married into the family that had started the war.”

“You’re not serious! They forced her to marry the Hightowers?” Jaime and Dany exclaimed at the same time.

“Yes. She had married Ser Corwyn Corbray during the regency for they were friends and it was a way to protect her brother. But then Ser Corwyn died fighting against rebels in the Riverlands, and so she was single once more. She had had no children by Ser Corwyn and so the regency thought it best to wed her to the Hightowers to prevent another war. Ser Garmund was not of the direct line, but he was young and handsome and was smart and so they were married.” Maester Kennett replied.

“What was their marriage like?” Dany asked.

“It was cordial. That is all the records say of it. Princess Rhaena took her dragon Morning with her to Oldtown, but it died, under strange circumstances. She had six daughters by her husband, and nothing more is known about her. It is as if she disappeared off of the pages of history.” Maester Kennett said.

“That doesn’t seem fair.” Dany said. “She was a person too, she had concerns, hopes, dreams, loves, and hates. Why was she written off of the pages of history and her sister was not? Princess Rhaena did enough to protect the family during the dance did she not? She convinced the Vale to keep fighting even when it was breaking and the clans were hurting them. She convinced the Lord of Winterfell to allow Corlys Velaryon to be pardoned and restored to his position. Why then was she ignored?”

There was real passion in Dany’s voice and Jaime found himself agreeing with her. Maester Kennett had a strange look on his face, it was a mixture of amusement and something else. An emotion that Jaime could not name, but no doubt Ned could, Ned could always name the emotions people tried to hide. Eventually, Maester Kennett spoke. “I agree Princess, she should not have been ignored. And perhaps when you are older you will do more to shine a light on her and ensure more people come to know of her.” He paused and then said. “But for now, our lesson is over, you may return to your chambers now.”

They both stood up and thanked the maester before turning and leaving the room. Jaime looked at Dany and suddenly found that he didn’t want her to go just yet, so he asked. “What do you want to do?”

“Let’s go to the Rookery.” Dany said smiling.

Jaime agreed and so they started walking that way, Ser Gyles of the Kingsguard accompanied them. As they walked, Jaime found himself thinking about King Aegon, and the sort of life the King must have had. It sounded like a burden, a huge burden to shoulder from such a young age, he was not sure he would ever be able to handle that. He was not sure he would be a good Lord of the Rock let alone a good King. He sighed and asked Dany. “Do you ever what life would be like as a normal girl?”

Dany stopped near a door and said. “I am a normal girl.”

Jaime giggled. “I mean, to me you are, but to someone else you might not be. You are a Princess after all.”

Dany didn’t laugh like he thought she would, instead she sighed. “I know, but I am normal. It’s not like I’ve got some sort of magic power. All I can do is say my name to get things, but then I guess that is a magic power. Especially here.”

“Especially here.” Jaime agreed, grinning.

Dany giggled, then stopped. “But no, I’ve never wondered what it would be like not to be a Princess. How could I, when I do not know what such a life would be like, I’ve never met anyone who was not from a noble family.”

Jaime thought about it for a moment and then realised that neither had he. An idea formed in his head, one that might well get him into a lot of trouble later. “Do you want to?”

“Do I want to what?” Dany asked.

“Do you want meet normal people?” Jaime replied.

Dany pursed her lips, her brow raised. After what seemed like forever she said. “Yes.”

Jaime grinned and grabbed her hand and said. “Come on let’s go then.” And before Dany or Ser Gyles could say anything else he started walking the other way. Dany’s hand was warm in his, and they walked through the Red Keep, out into the gardens and then they made a slow descent down the hill. For some reason, nobody stopped them, and usually Jaime would find that unusual, but right now he was more interested in what he wanted to see, what he wanted Dany to see. They walked down the hill, and then they came to the foot of it, where there were shacks and huts and people stared at them. Jaime stopped then, feeling slightly nervous.

“What do we do now?” Dany whispered.

“Princess, perhaps we had best go back?” Ser Gyles suggested, Jaime turned and saw his hand moving to his sword.

“No, let’s keep going. Come on Dany, you wanted to see the people, well here we are.” Jaime said, and he pulled Dany along with him down the street.

As they walked, Jaime saw more people stare at them, he saw children no older than them sitting in their own poo, he saw dogs running around, and nobody came to speak to them, they all just stared at them. He felt something shiver inside him, perhaps this had not been the best idea. Perhaps he should have suggested something else. He looked at Dany and saw that there was something resembling fear on her face. He stopped, and she stopped. Ser Gyles moved to stand in front of them. A man walked forward, he threw himself to the floor in front of them and said. “Princess, you have come, just as we knew you would. We love you Princess.”

Another man came forward, this time with a baby in his arms. “Please Princess, he’s been screaming all night and he’s hot, can you please cure him?”

Jaime wanted to ask how Dany was supposed to cure the baby, she was not a maester. But the babe was thrust before Dany and she hesitantly touched the baby’s forehead and whispered something that sounded like the mother’s prayer. The man took the baby back and touched its forehead. “He’s cooler now. Thank you, Princess!”

As soon as word got around at what Dany had done, more people came to present themselves or their family members for cures. Dany touched many foreheads and many hands, and Jaime did as well, which he thought was strange. He’d heard about this sort of thing, Ned had read about it all the time, but now he was witnessing it, it was very surreal. Was this actually happening, was Dany actually curing these people, or was it something else? It was all very strange. Eventually though, Ser Gyles stepped in and said very loudly. “The Princess and Master Jaime must return to the Red Keep. Thank you.” And as one where before people had merely stared at them, as they turned and made their way back to the Red Keep, people bowed their heads and threw themselves to the floor. It was very strange.

The minute they got back to the Red Keep and to the hallway, Dany turned to him and with a big smile said. “Thank you.”

Jaime looked at her confused. “For what?”

“For showing me I don’t need to be afraid.” Dany replied.

Jaime was not sure he understood why she would be afraid, but then Dany kissed his cheek and he blushed. “Well, you’re welcome.” He said softly. Dany smiled and then turned and walked to her rooms. Jaime was left standing there, not entirely sure about what he’d witnessed or what had just happened, but thinking he would do whatever he could to make Dany smile again.

He walked back to his own rooms, all the while, the images of the people throwing themselves to the ground and bowing before Dany and him-him! - flowed through his mind. A large part of him was disconcerted by it, a smaller part, a part he was not even sure was real, liked it.


	22. Discharge: Joanna VI

_The King has decided that he wishes to travel his realm, and as such has declared that the entire court is to come with him. We shall be coming to the Westerlands and the Rock in roughly a moon’s time. I know this is short notice my love, but please do have as much prepared as you can in that time. I will see what else I can do from my end._

_Love_

_Tywin_

Joanna put the letter down, that was the third time she had read it, and still her heart hammered a little. The King was coming to the Rock alongside the court, and Tywin was coming home. She was excited, that meant her husband and her sons-for yes she did consider Eddard a son- were coming home as well. It also meant that they might be able to figure something out with the King for Cersei or for Jaime. She glanced at the letter again and then looked up at Maester Creylen and Ser Kevan and said. “The King and the royal court are coming to Casterly Rock. They will be here in a moon’s turn. This is part of the King’s progress around the realm. As such, it has fallen to us to prepare for the visit.” She took a breath and allowed both men to digest this information and then she continued. “Maester Creylen do we have enough food to last through for the next three moons? You remember what happened the last time the court was here, I am sure?” The court had come nine years ago and they had very nearly eaten everything that the Rock had to offer.

Maester Creylen nodded. “I do, my lady.” The maester paused for a moment and pulled out a scroll from one of his robes, Joanna found herself wondering not for the first time what exactly Creylen kept in his sleeves. Creylen looked at the scroll and then said. “We have enough food for the next year, my lady. But should the royal court do as they did the last time they were here, they might well eat through half a year’s worth of supplies.”

Joanna tried to keep from shuddering. The thought of that much food disappearing in such a short time was not a pleasant thought. “Knowing His Majesty, the court will likely be here for around two weeks. Enough time for a tourney and some other diplomatic discussion and nothing more. Unlike the last time where the kingdoms were run from here.” That had been a very interesting experience. The King had for some reason decided to rule from the Rock, and had spent four moons here, digging through taxation, hearing petitions and many other things. Eventually he had left and Joanna had breathed a sigh of relief.

“Do you wish for me to send word to the Crakehalls and the Braxs and ask them for more of their grain supply? After all they are some of the most productive areas.” Creylen asked.

“No, do not do that just yet. We have enough food and water and alcohol for a year, as you have said. I do not wish to convey an impression that we need to borrow from our vassals.” Joanna said, especially not after Serrett’s revelations the previous year. “I think we shall just need to be cautious about what food we have now, before the court comes.” She paused, thinking. She knew that Aerys was trying to cut down on how much he drank, and that Rhaella was starting to show, he wondered why they were both coming and wondered if that meant they had patched things up. For Rhaella’s sake she hoped so. “I think we shall need to ensure the royal suites are fully prepared and stocked with books and the appropriate warming conditions.” Joanna knew that both Aerys and Rhaella liked their rooms to be very hot. “As for the Prince and Princesses rooms I think we should keep them at a medium temperature. And ensure there are plenty of books in the Prince’s room.” Joanna knew from Tywin and Eddard’s letters that the Prince loved reading.

Creylen nodded. “And where should the Prince and Princesses be based my lady? The royal suites only have three rooms, and I do not think it would be appropriate to keep the Princesses away from their parents.”

Joanna agreed, Princess Shaena was a young lady of four and ten, but her sister Princess Daenerys was merely a child of ten namedays. It would be a difficult one, she did not think that the Princesses would want to share rooms with one another, she certainly hadn’t want to at that age. She thought for a moment and then said. “Extend the royal suite. Ensure that Lann’s room is added to it as well as Gerold’s room.” That would make sense and both rooms were big and grand enough to be part of the Royal Suite.

“Very well, my lady.” Creylen said making a note of this on some paper he had pulled from somewhere, Joanna really did wonder where he got all of his tools from and how he managed to fit them in his robes. There was a brief pause and then he asked. “And what about the other courtiers? Velaryon, Staunton, Chelstead? They will all want suitable rooms near the Royal Suite.”

“Pycelle as well.” Kevan said, and Joanna saw Creylen grimace slightly, and she hid a smile. Creylen did not like his cousin, not one bit, which was a good thing, she did not trust Pycelle either.

“I think we should keep them in the customs suites. They are near enough to the royal suite that the council members would not feel insulted, but they are not near enough to the royal suite to diminish the fact that the Royal Family is staying at the residence of the Hand of the King.” Joanna said firmly.

Creylen nodded and Kevan asked. “What about the carriages and the horses. We have enough space for the carriages, but I am not sure whether the horses would all want to stay within the confines of the Rock itself.”

A perfectly valid point, especially considering just how dark it could get within the Rock. Joanna thought for a moment and then said. “Prepare the stables in Lannisport. It is not too far a distance for the transport to take them from the city to the Rock should they wish it.” Kevan nodded and there was silence again.

Joanna ran through the list in her mind, what else might be needed? Food and supplies, sorted, rooms appropriate for their guests, sorted, entertainment? “The singers who were here the last time the court came, who were they?” There had been one singer who had been very good, who had managed to get Tywin to smile and dance with her, if she could she would bring that singer back.

“One was called Tom of the Seven Strings,” Kevan said, Joanna was not surprised he remembered, Kevan’s memory had always been good. “Then there was Jane of the Streams and finally Garrett of the Green.”

Joanna nodded. “Send men to find them and bring them invitations for this event. They are the best of the singers that have come through the Rock in recent years, and the Royal Court deserves only the best.” Kevan made a note of that. Joanna checked entertainment off her list and then finally came to the matter that would be most pressing. “How are things looking since Serrett and his lot were taken off this world?”

 “Much better than they had been before, my lady.” Kevan said. “The merchants are feeling far more comfortable walking the streets and travelling from place to place. Even Banefort has ventured out from his castle.”

Joanna nodded. “Good, I want the patrols to continue and for it to be doubled as the royal visit draws nearer. We shall not have bandits making things difficult.” Kevan nodded, and Joanna could not think of anything more to say so she said. “Kevan you may go, Maester Creylen if you wait here for a moment, I shall write out my response to Tywin.” Kevan bowed and then straightened and walked out. Joanna took up a quill and wrote out her response.

_My love,_

_Received your letter, have made arrangements accordingly. Look forward to seeing you all. Give my love to Jaime and Eddard._

_Love,_

_Joanna._

It was a simple letter, but she had long ago learned that Tywin preferred to convey his emotions in person, and so she would save just how grateful she was he was coming  home when she actually saw him. She folded the letter and placed it inside cover and then affixed the Lannister lion seal to the back, before handing it to Creylen who nodded and walked out. Joanna watched the maester go and then waited, shortly after he left, Genna and her husband Ser Emmon walked into the room. “Sit.” Joanna said pleasantly, she did not like Emmon, but she did like Genna and therefore she would be polite.

“Thank you for seeing us.” Genna said, sincerity in her voice. Joanna felt bad for her goodsister, Genna had not asked to be married to a fool, and for some reason Tywin had refused to grant the relevant papers for the annulment, and so they suffered through it.

Joanna nodded. Allowing the silence to settle again, she needed to think of a way to say this properly, without giving into the anger that always threatened to lap at her when she thought of what had happened, of what Emmon had done. It took her a little more time and then she opened her mouth and the words came, how she did not know. “I have thought long and hard about what happened, as has Tywin, and we have reached a decision.” Genna leaned forward, as did Emmon, though there was something predatory in Emmon’s eyes that she had never seen before. “This is the last time we shall pardon such a grave offence. You are a son as well as a husband and a father, Emmon, therefore it makes sense that you would try and ensure your father was well in his old age. However, know this, make another attempt to convey information to Walder Frey and you will be killed.”

Emmon swallowed, Joanna could see the bob of his throat and had to hide her disgust behind her hands. “I do.” Emmon stuttered out. The man was not brave, he was not bold, he wasn’t even a weasel, he was just a fool, a naïve little fool.

“Very well.” Joanna said, nodding to Genna who exhaled a breath that she probably didn’t even know she’d been holding. She decided that since she had them both here she might as well find out what she wanted to know. “So, what did your father say exactly? Or was it Lothar Frey who conveyed the messages?”  She saw the surprise on Emmon’s face and laughed at it. With how closely watched the Twins was, Joanna seriously wondered how Emmon thought his father had gotten this information out. Walder Frey thought he was clever, he was the weak link that would break down the conspiracy.

Emmon took a breath, it came out sounding like a rattle. “He wrote to say that he is disappointed. He thought that I would play a much greater role in ensuring that he was seen as innocent and that he thought that there was more to me.” There was a hint of resignation in Emmon’s voice that almost made Joanna feel sorry for him, almost.

“So, he still wishes for people to see him as innocent despite the obvious evidence against him. Why?” Joanna demanded.

“I do not know.” Emmons replied.

“Because Walder Frey is a fool who has a huge wall on his shoulder about his house. He cannot accept that the nonsense he pulled before will not work now.” Genna said furiously.

“Genna…” Emmon began.

“It is true.” Genna interrupted. “The old man still thinks this is the reign of Aegon the Fortunate and he can get away with anything. He needs to realise that the Freys sit, where they are because other houses have allowed them to get to that place, none more so than House Lannister. If he wishes to cause controversy, then he must suffer for it. The letter he sent you is proof that he has not learned his lesson.”

Joanna found that she completely agreed with Genna, but seeing the expression on Emmon’s face she suspected that some truth that had been long buried was about to come bursting forth to the surface, and so she waited. Sure, enough Emmon erupted. “My father worked hard to ensure that the family remained strong after the mess my grandfather made of things. He has had to put up with people constantly looking down on him, despite the fact that he has worked harder than any of them. He is the bloody reason why the Riverlands didn’t erupt into chaos during the regency of Hoster Tully. And now the crown has him watched like some sort of criminal. All he ever did was suggest that perhaps the crown might reconsider its stance on certain things, nothing more. He does not deserve to be handled like a man who might erupt. It is not right nor is it fair.”

“Nor was it fair that Princess Aelora was raped by the rat, the hawk and the pig, and that people using their regalia are not trying to cause something. Nor is it right that your father spends his days plotting and breeding like a rabbit, instead of doing something about the chaos unfolding. But you would never admit to that, would you Emmon?” Genna replied.

Joanna waited. She knew that more would be coming, she could see it in the way Emmon’s face tightened, how his hands gripped the chair tightly. “My father does what needs to be done to keep order. He does more than any of the other lords, including Lord Tywin. He has always done more. So, what if he is indulging in something that others might consider unsavoury, he is doing it for himself, and nobody is getting hurt.”

“The House of Charlton and Jon Roote, both of who have been attacked and destroyed thanks to your father’s unsavoury acts. Tell that to the noble girls who now have scars and will never be able to sleep again, thanks to your father. Tell that to the countless others who are now burning with nothing but rage and horror, because of your father.” Genna shot back.

Joanna watched and waited. Emmon’s eyes had grown large, very large. There was clear anger on his face, his breathing was heavy. “Watch yourself, you absolute whore!” Emmon roared, and now there was surprise on Genna’s face, Emmon had never said this to her before then. That was interesting. “You know nothing. You and your golden cage, you know nothing. Oh, so you were married off to me when you were a child, and you have to put up with being married to a Frey. Fucking well done. You have lived in the Rock your entire life, you have never had to deal with anything else but your own fucking whim. You have done nothing, you are nothing, but what the name gave you. So, please, spare me your little outrages. You care nothing for the people nothing at all. And now? Now it suits you to care. You disgust me.” Genna looked as if she was about to reply, but before she could, Emmon continued, his voice growing ever louder. “You do not know anything about me, you never bothered. You just accepted your fate and contented yourself with spiting me. I have had enough of it. I have had enough of this entire family looking down on me.” Emmon stared at Genna, Joanna saw the guards approaching, she held out a hand and they waited, the time was not quite right. Emmon kept staring at Genna, his face was red, his eyes were wide. “You want to know fear.” His voice had gotten deeper now. “You want to know fear, oh wife of mine? Then let me show you fear!” Suddenly a knife appeared in Emmon’s hand, and Joanna saw a carving of a rat and a hawk crashed together on the handle. Emmon’s hand moved down toward Genna, and it was at that point that Joanna moved her hand and the guards came in.

Emmon was tackled to the ground, the knife knocked out of his hand. As he struggled, Joanna looked on, her expression blank, when Emmon had stopped struggling she said. “Emmon Frey, in the name of Tywin Lannister, Lord of Casterly Rock, Warden of West and Shield of Lannisport, I hereby arrest you and declare your income confiscated.” She looked at the guards and said. “Throw him in the cell.” As Emmon was lifted up and dragged out he started cackling.

“You think this is over? It has just begun; we shall have our revenge. The game has begun and the bell has tolled for you all.” His cackling carried on down the hallway and out into the cells.

Joanna looked at Genna and took her goodsister’s hand. Her goodsister looked stunned. “I never thought, I didn’t think…”

“How could you? He was and is a dolt. But his anger was always there.” Joanna said soothingly.

“I feel like such a fool. How could I not have seen this coming? How could I have not seen the signs? I am supposed to be able to read him! That is how I have kept him under check for so long!” Genna protested.

“He knew how to keep his emotions hidden, he is Walder Frey’s son of course he did.” Joanna said.

“What does this mean?” Genna asked.

“It means we now know who the rat is, and we know how to carve him out from within.” Joanna said. Her goodsister nodded, but Joanna knew it would take a long time to recover from this. Not for the first time she cursed her uncle Tytos.

 


	23. Stargazer: Rickard II

The journey south was always a long one. Rickard was not sure what it was about leaving Winterfell, but for some reason it always seemed to go on and on. He had left roughly three weeks ago, with a small escort, and it was only yesterday that he had arrived in Harrenhal, where the King and the court were staying. The last time he had come south to meet the King, had been during the early days of King Aerys reign, when the King had been a young man, when they had both been young men, filled with ambition and dreams. They had made promises to one another, and now Rickard had come south to meet and see whether the King was willing to remember the promises.

The King was dressed in red and black, the colours of his house, with the elaborate crown of Aegon the Unworthy atop his head. Rickard bowed low and said. “Your Majesty, I have come as requested, to meet and greet, and to discuss things of great importance.”

He remained bowed, his head lowered as the King replied. “Lord Rickard, my most loyal of servants, it has been too long since last we met. Welcome, and rise.” Rickard raised himself up to his full height, the King extended his hand and Rickard moved forward to kiss the ring on the King’s right hand. Once that was done, he moved back and waited for the King to speak. It took a moment but then the King said. “So, you have come from the frozen lands north of the neck to meet your King. Tell me, how does the north do?”

Rickard took a moment to think of the question. The north was developing, the silver mines were booming, the lumber trade with the islands was going very well, but there were a few things that were somewhat worrying him. He took a moment and then said. “The north stands tall and proud, strong to the touch and firm in the ground. As she has been for the past century, Your Majesty. And with your blessings she will continue to do so.” He had things he wished to discuss with the King but in front of so many people here gathered in the Hall of a Hundred Hearths, he did not think it would be appropriate.

As always, the King seemed to know what he was thinking, for he clapped his hands and said. “Everyone but Lord Tywin, Lord Rickard and Lord Hoster, leave the room, go and explore this great beast of a castle.” There was a great shuffling of movement and shortly the hall was emptied to just the four of them and the Kingsguard who were there to guard the King. The King fixed his eyes on him and asked. “What is it that there is pressing you so? I know you would not have left Winterfell were the issues not most pressing. So, speak.”

Rickard took a moment to consider and then said. “My King, I have had word from the men of the neck. It appears that Walder Frey continues to meet with his bannermen and with other knights of the shire who continue to oppose Your Majesty’s command. They are growing in number, and they continue to discuss things that are most alarming.”

The King’s eyes narrowed, but other than that there was no visible sign of worry. “What sort of things do they discuss?”

Rickard looked at Tywin Lannister and said simply. “Walder Frey was not happy whatsoever with the execution of his son Emmon. Nor was he happy that Genna Lannister and her sons refused to move from the Rock. My sources tell me that he feels this is a great slight to him and his house and he feels it needs to be answered accordingly. One of the cranogmen took something off of one of the riders he sent out.” Rickard took the piece of paper out of his pocket and handed it to Ser Gerold, the Lord Commander who handed it to the King.

The King read it and laughed. “He plans on mustering an army and riding southwards. How very interesting. Walder Frey has grown from being cautious to being bold and rash. He must truly fear what Emmon told your wife, Tywin.”

Lord Tywin nodded and said. “I believe Walder Frey is not as in control of the situation as he would like to be. Joanna wrote to me that the dagger that Emmon Frey drew out had a rat and a hawk clashing on its handle. A symbol that was last seen some twenty years ago.”

The King had clearly heard this before, for he did not look alarmed, though Rickard felt his own heart speed up, could it really be the Rat, the Hawk and the Pig back from the grave? The King clearly saw the question on his face for he said. “Yes, we believe that the deadly trio are back for more. And we have reason to believe that Walder Frey is a member of that group.”

That did not surprise him, he had had dealings with Walder Frey before, and the man always came across as bitter and with something on his shoulder about the position of his house. “Do you think he wishes to disrupt the natural order of things? Of the progress that has been made, Your Majesty?” Rickard asked, that seemed like something that Walder Frey would do.

“Yes.” Was the King’s simple reply.

Lord Tywin elaborated. “His Majesty and I feel that Walder Frey has been planning this for some time, when we looked through the accounts, we found several large payments into knightly purses that went unaccounted for in previous collections. We also found several donations to the Iron Bank of Bravos. All of this fits a pattern that Lord Serrett had explained to us.”

The ravings of Lord Serrett had spread far and wide, Rickard had heard them, hells even Umber had heard them. “And, Frey wants to bring down the natural order to ensure the continued growth of his own family?” It made sense, the man had more children than he had sense, it would be expensive maintaining all of that.

The King nodded. “It would appear that this is what Frey wants, the man has more of a sex drive than he does common sense.” There was a slight pause and then the King said. “But enough about Frey. What else is there that bothers you, Lord Stark? I know you would not have just come here for that.”

Rickard took a breath. “I wished to speak to you about potential ventures in the north.” He had done his reading and his research and he knew there was a lot of potential within the land he ruled, and it was criminal that it had not been explored. “The silver mines are doing very well, the growth from their extract has increased fivefold in this year alone. However, I think that there is greater potential within the north than we might previously have thought.” He took another breath and then said. “There is enough lumber within the north to help build a thousand of the best ships that the royal fleet could have. There is enough meat within the north through the cattle and the sheep and the other animals that prowl our lands to ensure proper food supplies for a long time. We do not need to constantly rely on others to provide for us. The north has relied on others for too long, I think the time has come to change that.”

The King’s eyes sparkled with the same sort of enthusiasm as Rickard had seen when he had talked about building a wall much bigger than the Wall. “And how would we ensure that these things were properly utilised. Forgive me, my lord, but I know what the northern lords are like. They will fight this with everything they have. How do we ensure that they remember who benefits the most from this?”

Rickard had thought long and hard about this and when he replied he felt confident in the answer he was giving. “The lords of the north are a stubborn people, that is true. However, they also realise that being the ones to produce the goods that they sometimes have to rely on others to produce is the most effective way to increase their standing in the world. I have met with several of the lords of the north, Bolton, Ryswell, Dustin, Manderly and Glover and they all agree that this is something that must be done. With your permission Sire, I would begin the process of starting the cattle farms and the land charters for the cutting of wood.”

The King looked intrigued, the glimmer was very much there. He looked at Lord Tywin who spoke. “An interesting proposal, but where would the farms and the land be for the cutting of this wood?”

Rickard clapped his hands and his servants who had remained behind as per the prior agreement brought a table and placed a map of the north on it. Rickard stood before it and gestured. “There is plenty of grazing land here, on Sea Dragon Point and the Stony Shore. This land has been farmed for generations and is untapped. The cattle here produce some of the best meat that there is within the Seven Kingdoms. As for the wood itself, that would come from the Wolfswood, from the Sheepshead Hills and from the forests of the Grey Cliffs and Karhold, areas which are firmly protected by land and by barriers of other kinds.”

“And how would you ensure that the resources are not take by hoarders? We know that there are some within the north who do not like paying or giving anything to the south.” Lord Tywin asked, with razor sharp precision.

Rickard looked at the man and said. “You are not the only one who could do a Rains of Castamere should they wish it, my lord hand.” It was true, when Umber had threatened something, Rickard had burned his fields and hanged two of his sons for the insult. Umber had gotten the point.

Lord Tywin seemed to accept this answer. The King however, had more questions. “What of the Kingsroad? That is a road that has suffered some abuse in the past, and as such Winterfell has been lax in doing its part in repairing it. will you address this?”

Rickard did his best not the blush. It was true, the Kingsroad was horribly underdeveloped in the north compared to what he had seen on his journey south and that was something he had long been meaning to change. He nodded in agreement. “I will be, Your Majesty. It is a crime that we have left it for so long.”

The King seemed pleased by this and said. “Very well, I will have Tywin here write up the letters of recommendation to allow you to do this without concern from others. You have the credit for these ventures I trust?”

Rickard had ensured that there was enough money within their coffers, with the Iron Bank and Bravos still not on good terms with the crown, he had needed to. “I do, Your Majesty, thank you for asking.”

The King clapped his hands. “Then it is sorted. Now let us turn to another matter, that I have been contemplating. The Blackwood-Bracken feud has settled down for now. But when I met with Lord Blackwood he mentioned that he had written to you, and you refused to get involved, why was that?”

Rickard had expected this question and had his answer prepared. “I did not feel it was my place, Your Majesty. I am merely a servant of the crown, not the crown itself. It was not right for me to get involved in a dispute that would bring with it cries of partiality in whatever way I decided. I know Lord Hoster sometimes has a hard time handling the matter fairly.” Lord Hoster nodded in agreement.

“And do you think the peace will last?” The King asked.

Rickard thought about that for a moment and then said. “I think that the peace will hold for as long as Blackwood and Bracken feel they have nothing to gain from fighting one another. the Rygers will be important in ensuring that nothing more happens, with their control of the forest.”

The King hummed in agreement. “Very well. Now there was one more thing I believe you wished to speak about?” Here the King looked at both him and Hoster and said. “Both of you.”

Hoster stepped forward so he was standing next to Rickard and he bowed low, then when the King gestured for him to rise he did so. “We’ve come to ask for your permission to betroth our children to one another, Your Majesty.” Hoster said.

“And why should I agree to this?” the King asked. “The Riverlands can be a tinder box and the north is a giant region. If I were a suspicious man I might think you were plotting something against me.”

Rickard kept his face blank, they were plotting something, but not against the crown. He answered. “The North and the Riverlands have always been loyal to the crown through House Stark and House Tully. We have served loyally and have ensured stability and order. Our children are of the same generation as His Royal Highness the Prince of Dragonstone. We believe that this marriage would tie our two realms closer together and ensure better co-operation should war ever broke out.” Rickard saw the thoughtful expression crossing the King’s face and knew he was thinking about the War of the Ninepenny Kings and how long it had taken to sort things out there.

The King seemed intrigued by this and then asked. “And who of your children would be betrothed?”

“My eldest son and heir Brandon.” Rickard replied.

“And my eldest daughter Catelyn.” Hoster stated.

The King seemed thoughtful, and looked at Tywin Lannister to get his views on things. “I think it would be a good match, Your Majesty. The Starks and Tullys have always supported the crown and done their best to ensure their respective realms are held together in law and order. Having them bonded together would bring good will and ensure better unity throughout the realm.”

There was another pause, and for a moment, Rickard was worried that the King would say no, but then he said. “Very well. I consent to the betrothal and the marriage.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty.” Rickard and Hoster said, going to kiss the King’s ring. They stepped back and waited for the King to speak once more.

“Now that that is done, I suggest you both go and rest. Lord Stark, your son is in the common room. If you wish to speak with him.” the King said.

Rickard nodded, and bowed, before turning and leaving the hall. As he walked toward the common room he thought about Eddard, he wondered what his son was actually like. He had not seen him in four years, he would be thirteen namedays old now, nearly a man grown, would he be like Brandon, a little wild and unreserved, or would he be like Rickard himself? Rickard had many questions floating through his mind, but they all stopped when he saw his son sitting there reading a book. He cleared his throat and his son looked up, he saw Lyarra’s eyes looking back at him, shocked and surprised. “Hello, Eddard.” He said softly.

His son stood up and walked toward him. Eddard stood before him and then they hugged. “Father, it is…it is good to see you.” His son said.

They pulled back from one another and Rickard took the time to look at his son. Eddard had grown taller, his brown hair was cut short, and there was the beginning of a wispy moustache as well on his upper lip. His eyes were warm, and he had broad shoulders, Rickard felt as if he was looking at his cousin Benjen all those years ago. He nodded to himself and then asked his son. “How are you doing? Are you enjoying yourself?”

“Yes, very much so father, thank you. The journey here was very interesting, and there are a lot of books in the library, so I’ve been reading them.” Eddard replied.

Rickard smiled, at least that was one thing about his son that hadn’t changed. Even as a young child, Eddard had loved to read, he got it from Lyarra, Rickard was convinced of that. He took a moment to think about that and then asked. “Have you found anything of interest, during your stay here then?”

Eddard nodded. “There’s a book here about House Strong, the ruling house of Harrenhal during the Dance of Dragons. It goes into a lot of detail about their origins and about how they fought and struggled for supremacy over the Riverlands with the Tullys. It’s really interesting and I think there are some parallels to what’s happening now.”

Rickard nodded, he knew or rather suspected he knew what his son was meaning, but right now he merely wanted to get to know his son a bit more. “How do you find Lord Tywin and his family? Are they kind to you?” It felt odd asking such questions, but he knew he needed to ask, he needed to give Lya something.

“I like them very much. They are very kind, and Jaime reminds me a little of Benjen. He’s got a lot of energy and stuff.” Eddard said trailing off. Then he asked softly. “How are Lya and Benjen?”

Rickard smiled. “They are well. Lyanna continues to cause all kinds of trouble in Winterfell, and as such I am considering whether it would be wise to give her that sword she keeps asking for or now. As for Benjen well…” Rickard trailed off, it was hard for him to talk about his youngest and not remember Lyarra lying in their bed, covered in blood. He blinked, Eddard did not need to know that. “Benjen is doing well.” That didn’t sum it up, but it was enough. He noticed that Eddard had not asked about Brandon and so he said. “Brandon is doing well as well.”

Eddard nodded and said nothing for a moment and then asked. “Will you be coming to the Rock, father?”

There was hope in his son’s voice, and Rickard hated himself for the words he said next. “No, my business here is done. I must return to the north and to Winterfell.”

His son’s shoulders fell and his voice was shaky when he replied. “Okay.”

 

 

 


	24. Tricks and Sticks: Tywin V

It was good to be home, Tywin thought as he waited for the King to enter the Hall of A Hundred Crowns, where the council meeting was to be held. They’d travelled through the Riverlands and had stopped off at various castles, including the monstrosity that was Harrenhal, and if he were being frank, Tywin really preferred Casterly Rock. It was home, and there was something about being home that just sort of soothed his nerves, and his anxieties as they were.

There had been something in Harrenhal, a particular mood that had struck him as odd. Lord Whent was a good man, slightly older than Tywin was himself, but still a good man. And yet, Tywin had gotten the feeling that he was growing tired of everything, the oaths, the world, the pains, it was something most definitely worth looking into again, especially considering the cost of running such a castle as Harrenhal. They would need the Whents in the time to come, that much Tywin was sure of.

Tywin looked around the room at his fellow councillors, he was starting to grow quite annoyed with them. Lord Staunton was capable as was Lord Chelstead, but Velaryon held his position simply because he was kin to the King, whilst Ser Jacaerys was never firmly planted anywhere for him to make a valid assumption of the man. Pycelle was a stooge, a man who was only good for one or two things nothing more. The door opened and the King walked in, they all stood and bowed, the King sat down and then they were seated. There was a brief pause and then the King spoke. “So, here we are. Casterly Rock again for the first time in nine years. I believe we’ve achieved something quite remarkable. The feeling we got from the travel around the Riverlands was that it was overdue and needed. Especially as Frey continues to be a nuisance. Now the questions we have to handle are of a more manageable measure. I believe we should start with the issue of Braavos.”

Tywin took the cue and spoke. “Braavos continues to suffer through the burning fires of its isolation. It has seen stocks and shares in the Iron Bank fall by roughly forty percent in the past two years, and the chiefs of the bank have been replaced seven times in the past three months alone. As for the Sealord, his position has become untenable, he will either need to step down, or stage a coup to take complete power. Right now, the candidates to replace him are a man who once worked for the Iron Bank, and someone who served as an army captain.”

“So, we all know who will win that election then.” Staunton jested.

The King ignored Staunton and asked. “Would the army captain serve our purposes more, being as he is a martial man and he might well be willing to be pushed toward attacking someone who will tie up Braavos’s resources for the time being?”

Tywin considered the query, and then said. “I believe that the army captain would be preferable for us, Your Majesty. He has fewer ties to the Iron Bank, and from what I have learned, does not share in their views either politically or economically. He would be far more willing and likely to strike out at Pentos or on Volantis to beggar the city than Westeros.”

Ser Jacaerys spoke up then as well. “I think that Lord Tywin is right. The army captain is someone who would be much more amenable to a little arm pulling. Someone who would take the gold and look the other way whilst his city burned, if you will.”

The King seemed pleased by this, a grin spreading over his face. “Very well. Then we shall provide what support we can to this army captain. I want reports on his progress regularly.” There was a pause, then the King looked straight at Chelstead and asked. “And how progresses the foundations for the Royal Bank?”

The Royal Bank was something that the King and Tywin had agreed upon some years ago, back when they were both still green as grass. The need for a foreign power to lend money to the Iron Throne was something that they had both found intolerable, and so the plans had begun, and now it seemed as though they were finally being implemented. It was something that Tywin was quite excited to see come to fruition. Chelstead smiled. “The Royal Bank has so far gotten eighty signatories to agree to putting up the first series of payments into it. they are all from the nobility, and a few of the developing merchant tradesmen have expressed interest in gaining loans from the bank. The buildings that the bank shall be housed in, in King’s Landing have been secured and checked. They have fully agreed with the procedures, Your Majesty highlighted before, and as such all that is needed now is for the grand opening.”

“How many staff?” The King demanded.

“One hundred and fifty at last count, Your Majesty.” Chelstead said.

“And how many are nobles and how many are from the lesser class?” The King asked.

“Ninety are from the nobility and sixty are from the lesser class, Sire. The ones from the lesser class have learned the tricks more easily, and thus are prepared to step in should the nobility falter.” Chelstead said.

Tywin had to hide a smirk behind his hand. The nobility not knowing the tricks of coin counting and extra plays did not surprise him. Some of the nobles could not even read or write, as such, it did not surprise him that they were slow to pick up the tricks. The King nodded. “I want that rate to increase. The nobles must know the procedures; I will not have the bank being cheated out of revenue because the nobles are too stupid.”

“Of course, Your Majesty.” Chelstead said.

Velaryon spoke then. “Is it not better that they remain stupid? That way they cannot do something that would hinder the bank itself?”

The King stared at Velaryon and Tywin interjected. “I would disagree with you, Lord Lucerys. The nobles need to know what it is they are doing, so that they do it properly. We must maintain order and balance. Having the lesser class know more than the nobility, well that is simply not right.” Velaryon looked as if he wanted to spit at Tywin but instead he merely nodded.

The King seemed not to have noticed that, for instead he changed the conversation to something else. “Very well, the Royal Bank is sorted. I will leave that in your capable hands Chelstead.” A pause and then. “Now, there is something else I wished to discuss, first and foremost the issue of the Freys.” Another pause, the King inhaled and then exhaled. “Now, Walder Frey is an old man, but he has some level of power. We know he is planning and plotting, his son Emmon was kind enough to tell us that before his death.” Here the King grinned and Tywin remembered the image of the King laughing when Emmon Frey shat himself before being executed. He pushed the image away and focused on what the King was saying. “Personally, we wish to remove the Freys from the face of this kingdom, however because Walder Frey has so many children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren that would be difficult, therefore I am willing to listen to suggestions as to what to do with them.”

Ser Jacaerys spoke first. “I would force Walder Frey’s hand, or I would have his firstborn son Stevron killed. Stevron is the thing keeping that house together, underneath his father’s faltering gaze. Remove Stevron and the entire house will implode on itself, as I do not think Walder Frey has the desire to keep things together anymore.”

“How does one remove the heir to the Twins, considering that heir has not moved from the Crossing?” Velaryon asked, scorn in his tone.

“One gives him a reason to leave.” Ser Jacaerys said. “We must make it seem as though he must leave, otherwise he will be stuck when his father falls. Ser Stevron is not like his father, he has a sense of duty to the crown and to his people. Ensure he remembers that and he will leave the Twins just as fast as he can. And that is when we take advantage of the rivalry between the branches of the family.”

“Using Walder Rivers to spring the trap.” Chelstead said then getting to where Tywin had gotten to long before them. “It is an interesting plan; we know Rivers has done what has been asked of him before and therefore it could well ensure that we have some sort of peace.”

“That would be true if Ser Stevron was like his father or even like the rest of his family.” Tywin said. “He is far more cautious than any of his siblings and his father. He will sense a plot from miles out if it comes to be there. Better to have Walder Frey die than to risk alerting him to something else. We already know that the man’s health is failing, there is no reason why we cannot play on that fact.”

There was a lengthy pause as they all considered what he’d said. Tywin kept his attention on the King, the King was the only one who mattered in this frame of discussion. What he said could make or break anyone in this very room, at this very moment. Eventually after some thought, the King replied. “I agree with Tywin. Jacaerys I want our men within the Twins to take care of Walder Frey, and then I want to ensure that the house destroys itself as quickly as possible.” Ser Jacaerys nodded and made a note of this. There was another brief pause, then the King continued. “Now, as to the Iron Islands. What word has there been from Quellon Greyjoy?”

Tywin had to repress the anger that he felt at the man’s name. He remembered quite well how Quellon Greyjoy had humiliated his father during the raids and the pillaging and everything else. He had sworn that one day he would bring down Quellon Greyjoy, and he would have done so sooner, had it not been for the fact that Balon Greyjoy was much worse. He listened intently as Pycelle spoke. “He writes that as of yet none of his men have returned from the west, but he is convinced that there is most definitely something there worth exploring.”

Ah yes, Greyjoy’s desire to explore what was to the west of the known world and bring everything more squarely back to the Ironborn away from fighting and raiding. There were times when Tywin hoped that the man would be successful, for then he could exploit the potential riches and make the Rock and the crown far richer, and then there were times when he wished the man would fail, so that he could gain some revenge for the insults dealt to his father. Right now, he wasn’t sure which side was winning out. The King’s face showed his interest. “And how does he know that there is something worth exploring if his men have not returned?”

Pycelle looked down at the paper before him and he said. “He believes that there is something there, he has a good feeling about this and he thinks just a little more time will show that he was right.”

There was a brief pause and then Velaryon said. “Well, perhaps Quellon Greyjoy has gone mad then, he is quite old and with the sons he has, one cannot blame the old man.”

“What has Quellon said about his sons?” Tywin asked. They were trouble, and Tywin was quite concerned about what would happen when Quellon did in fact die.

“Balon continues to raid the Summer Isles. Euron remains under arrest in Pyke, and the others are growing.” Pycelle said.

The King grunted. “Let them rot, so long as they do not cause more trouble, that is all that matters.” There was a general hum of agreement and then the King said. “Now, there is nothing more to discuss, this meeting is at an end. Tywin if you would remain behind.” The other council members got up and bowed before the King before walking out of the room. After the last member of the council had left, and it was just the two of them-three if you included Ser Gerold- a silence fell over the hall. It continued for a time, but Tywin was content to allow it to settle. Eventually, the King spoke. “There are a great many betrothals being arranged as of late. Many of the new generation are growing up and coming together.” There was something like wistfulness in the King’s voice, and Tywin remembered that Prince Rhaegar was now a man grown at seven and ten, soon he would need to be married, perhaps…. “I remember when I got married. It was a strange event. There were many things I had still to learn, and perhaps the mistakes I made could’ve been avoided if I’d had the chance to learn, but that is neither here nor there.” Personally, Tywin thought that the King would’ve made the mistakes he’d made with Rhaella, even if they’d been betrothed from birth. “Now, what do you make of the betrothal between Brandon Stark and Catelyn Tully?”

From the way, the question was phrased, Tywin knew that the King wasn’t asking for a political explanation but a personal one. “I think it is a good marriage, and it is good to see Rickard moving from the north and giving a more southern focus. I am somewhat disappointed that I could not get the girl for Jaime, but that is the way of things.”

The King snorted. “Ever the ambitious one aren’t you, Tywin? Now with Elia Martell married to Baelor Hightower, perhaps the Hightowers finally stop their nonsense and move into getting involved into the world again.” Personally, Tywin thought it was better if the Hightowers remained out of action, but the King seemed to have this deep-rooted desire for their involvement, and he was not quite sure he understood it. “I still do not understand why Doran Martell married that woman from Norvos. What was wrong with marrying Mariah?” Tywin was not sure how to respond to that, Mariah Dayne was the King’s cousin, and as such someone he had been very close to growing up, there had been talk of a betrothal before and then Doran Martell had married for love and it had not materialised. That was still a sore spot, especially as Mariah had died shortly afterwards. There was another silence then, and then King said. “I’ve received word from Steffon, it seems that Jon Arryn wants to arrange a marriage between his son Robert and Arryn’s niece Alys. I’ve told Steffon to consider it very carefully.”

“You believe then that Arryn cannot be trusted properly, Your Majesty?” Tywin asked.

“Most definitely not. You remember the role he played in Maegor’s uprising all those years ago? Oh, I am sure he will still deny it, but the evidence is there and we’ve done the digging. He played a big role in getting my cousin killed and so I shall never trust him.” The King stated simply.

Tywin felt there was something more to Jon Arryn, but he didn’t have confirmation of that and so he allowed it to settle. “I agree with you, Your Majesty. But knowing Steffon what is there to prevent Arryn from strong arming him into agreeing to the betrothal, like he did fostering Robert there?” That was still something Tywin had never forgiven Arryn for, taking advantage of Steffon when he was grieving.

The King waved a hand. “Steffon is not a grieving fourteen-year-old boy anymore. He is a grown man, with sons and a family, a highly respected lord of the realm. Should Arryn even think of forcing him to do anything, Steffon could very well remind him that he is also a member of the blood.”

Tywin doubted that Steffon would do that last bit, he seemed oddly against reminding people that he was officially a member of the royal family and had been since birth. Still he nodded in agreement with the King and said. “I am sure Steffon will stand his ground, as you say, Your Majesty.” He thought about what he next wanted to say and then decided to say what had been itching at the back of his mind for some time. “Your Majesty, about His Royal Highness, Prince Rhaegar, have you given any thought to who he shall be marrying?” It was blunter than he would’ve liked and he winced slightly at that, but the King laughed.

“Yes, I have.” Tywin felt a momentary flicker of hope, before he suppressed that vigorously. “I’ve decided to maintain longstanding tradition; my son shall marry his sister Shaena and therefore secure the line properly.” The King stated firmly.

Tywin felt a brief flicker of anger and annoyance, this incest would destroy the royal family, he was sure of it, but then he pressed that feeling down and said. “Of course, Your Majesty, a wise choice.”

The King smiled. “Of course, I have not forgotten the good service you have provided me over the years, as well as your friendship. Therefore, I am going to present this offer to you, and I know you will accept it.” Tywin leaned forward then intrigued. “I will betroth my daughter Daenerys to your son Jaime, and our two houses will be tied together in marriage as they always should have been.”

Tywin felt a tinge of surprise course through him, he should have thought of this, but he’d been so wrapped up in having his daughter as the future Queen, he’d never thought of this at all. He quickly schooled his face and said. “This is an honour, Your Majesty, thank you. I most graciously accept.”

The King stood up then and walked over to him and clasped his hand. “Good, we will be brothers in name and deed now.” Tywin nodded, smiling.


	25. Oh Maggy: Cersei I

****

Having the Royal Family present in Casterly Rock was an experience that Cersei thought she’d never get over. She’d met them once before when she’d been very young and that had been in King’s Landing. She’d been impressed with the splendour of the capital, but hadn’t thought it anything compared to the Rock. How naïve she had been! The Prince was as handsome as she remembered, more so, and Princess Shaena was even more beautiful than she had been all those years ago. Cersei wasn’t sure she was jealous of the Princess, she was a Targaryen after all, it was only right that she marries her brother the Prince, no, Cersei was beginning to think she was more jealous of the Prince for getting to spend so much time with the Princess, she wasn’t sure why she felt like that, only that she did. It was something to consider for later.

Right now, though she was with her mother and so she asked. “Mama, if Prince Rhaegar is marrying Princess Shaena, and Jaime is marrying Princess Daenerys, who will I marry?”

Cersei was thankful that Mama was not like any of the other ladies she had met. The other ladies would’ve made some silly noise about that and then fussed about her and ignored her question. Mama merely considered the question for a moment before responding. “Someone kind and smart and brave. Someone worthy of you, sweetling.”

“Does that mean I will have to wait a long time before I can be betrothed?” Cersei asked, and as she did so, she found that she did not really mind.

“I think so yes. Does that bother you?” Mama asked.

Cersei shook her head. “No, I’m glad. It means I get more time to think about what I want to learn before it does actually happen.” That was important to her. Jaime was so very excited to be marrying Princess Daenerys, but he had not thought about the things he would need to know  before he could marry her. Cersei knew that as a boy Jaime could get away with that. But Cersei as a girl could not. She would need to know almost everything there was to know before she could get married. No husband would want a wife who was stupid, after all.

Mama nodded approvingly. “And what things do you still wish to know? You know about how to keep track of things in the accounts, you are better than even your uncle Damon at managing the flow of money…” Cersei beamed with pride at that, it had taken her a long time to figure that out. “So, what more is there that you wish to know?”

Cersei thought about the question for a moment and then said. “I would like to learn how to ride properly. Not just side saddle, but to actually ride. I cannot be a good wife if I cannot go out hunting with him and ensure that he gets the right food for us to have for dinner.” That was important, though she made sure to grin to make sure Mama knew that she was at least partially joking.

Mama grinned. “Well, I suppose that can be arranged. There will be plenty of opportunities for you to be able to learn how to ride once the royal party has gone.” There was a pause and then Mama asked. “How are you finding it? Having the royal family here? Is it as good as you hoped it would be?”

Cersei nodded enthusiastically. “It is really good Mama, really good.  I feel that there are more things to talk about with Princess Shaena and Princess Daenerys than there are some of the noble girls that come through the Rock.” Certainly, more than there was to talk about with Melara Heatherspoon and Jane Farman, but she did not say that out loud. “We talked about Princess Naerys and the Princesses in the Tower the other day.” That had been a very interesting conversation. Princess Shaena had found Princess Daena’s conduct unbecoming, whilst Princess Daenerys had thought that Princess Daena should have simply killed her brother and been done with it.

“And what conclusions did you reach after speaking with the Princesses?” Mama asked.

“That there is more than one view over just what happened with the Princesses in the Tower. That because none of them left any actual accounts and the fact that Princess Naerys did not really speak much about anything, we can never really know for sure just what happened.” Cersei said, and then added. “So, in contrast to what Maester Creylen says.”

Mama laughed. “Of course. Maester Creylen is but one man, sweetling, he is going to teach you what he knows and present you opportunities to question him. You must do so if you think it would be beneficial to do so.”

Cersei nodded. “Yes Mama.” She glanced at the window outside and then asked. “Might I go Mama. I’m going to meet with Princess Shaena and Princess Daenerys and we’re going to go wandering through the castle.”

Mama nodded and smiled. “Of course, have fun sweetling and be safe.”

Cersei smiled and stood up and kissed her Mama’s cheek before turning and walking out of the room. She walked through the corridors, passed courtiers who gave her a glance and nothing more, passed men who were doing things with women that she knew would have their parts removed if Papa or Mama saw them. She stopped when she got to the Princesses’ rooms and knocked once and then twice. The door opened and Princess Shaena stood there, dressed in red and black, her hair done in a nice braid. “Are you ready, Princess?” Cersei asked, trying to fight down the swooping sensation she felt.

The Princess smiled. “Yes, of course.” She turned back and said. “Dany, come on let’s go.”

Princess Daenerys appeared then, dressed in silver and violet and smiled at her, Cersei smiled in return and then they walked out of the room. Ser Gyles of the Kingsguard and ten other guards accompanying them. They walked down the steps, and then out the door into the Stone Garden. Princess Daenerys spoke then her voice filled with question. “How old is the Stone Garden?”

“Around six thousand years old.” Cersei said, she knew because Ned had told her. “I think that it was here before the castle.”

“Wow!” Princess Daenerys said. “Is it a natural creation or a man made one?”

Cersei did not know that and she knew Ned did not know that, so really she was somewhat floating empty here. She decided to answer with what she thought would be the right answer. “I think it was a natural creation. Most of what we see here is a natural creation only the odd thing is manmade, and that’s because either the Casterlys or the Lannisters wanted to make more of a statement.”

Princess Daenerys looked around the garden again and exhaled. “That’s really, really something.” There was a brief pause and then she turned to Princess Shaena and asked. “Do you think we’ll be here for another moon?”

Cersei felt her heart flip then, she really hoped so. She wanted to get to know her future goodsister and the future Queen a bit better, why should Jaime get to have all the fun after all? Princess Shaena was slow to respond, her words considered. “I think we might be getting that chance. I heard from a page that there’s supposed to be another tourney happening.”

“Really?!” Cersei and Princess Daenerys exclaimed. She’d not heard about that.

“I think so yes. From what I was told the first tourney was to celebrate the King and his Hand and welcome us to the Rock. This tourney will be held to celebrate our two families and the union that symbolises our strength.” The Princess said.

Cersei looked at Princess Daenerys and smiled at the princess who smiled back. Then she looked at the Princess Shaena and saw an odd expression on her face. Quietly she asked. “You do not think there will be another tourney?”

Princess Shaena was hesitant for a moment and then she sighed. “I do not know. I was told that there would be people from all over Westeros coming to attend the tourney. And whilst I know that the Rock is big enough to host most, I am not sure there is enough food supply to make it worthwhile. Nor am I entirely sure that the person who told me this can be relied on to be truthful. After all, if there was going to be another tourney, the King would’ve said something, or Lord Tywin would have.”

Cersei thought about that and then nodded, it made sense after all. Princess Daenerys spoke then. “Who was it who told you about this?”

“Garett.” Princess Shaena replied a slight blush on her cheeks.

Princess Daenerys squealed then. “Garett!” another squeal and then. “Surely you know he can’t be trusted for anything. Especially when it comes to you, Shae?!”

Princess Shaena blushed again and Cersei found her curiosity piqued. Quietly she asked. “Who is Garett?”

“Garett Peake. He’s a page in the royal household. He comes from a minor branch of the House of Peake and really he thinks he’s something more than what he is. And that comes from the fact that I smiled at him once and said thank you for something. Now he spends most of his time trying to impress me with things that are usually lies.” Princess Shaena replied.

There was a blush spreading over the Princess’s cheeks and Cersei found herself asking. “If that’s the case, why do you believe him here, when he said there might be another tourney?”

The Princess sighed. “I don’t know. I guess, I thought that things might’ve changed. Rhaegar had spoken to him and he said that Garett had changed. And I don’t know, it was silly of me.”

There was a brief pause and then Cersei spoke again. “I’ve heard most of the House of Peake can’t really be trusted anyway. Something about them all being liars.”

Princess Shaena laughed. “That’s true.” Another pause and then she said. “Now, Cersei, I’ve heard that there is some sort of fortune teller in Lannisport, do you wish to visit them?”

Cersei had heard about this fortune teller. Some lady from Essos, who had plied her trade throughout the Seven Kingdoms. She had made her home in Lannisport some five years ago. Mama had always told Cersei not to go and visit her or believe whatever nonsense she heard from such people. But Cersei also knew it would be a crime to refuse the Princess and so she nodded and said. “Of course, Princess. Shall I let the guards know?”

The Princess shook her head and said. “No, no need to. Ser Gyles here will tell them.”

The white knight of the Kingsguard nodded and walked off, a few moments later they walked out of the Stone Gardens and into the corridor proper, as they made their way to the tunnels where the horses would be waiting Ser Gyles found them. Alongside him were several gold cloaks and several red cloaks, and Cersei could’ve groaned with anger then, Jane Farman and Melara Heatherspoon as well. Cersei nodded to them and then took the lift down to the tunnels, where she then mounted a horse and began the quick journey out of the tunnel down the slope and into the city. They dismounted outside the Seven Gate, left their horses with Ser Stafford, her Mama’s brother, and then walked into the city.

Lannisport was bustling with activity. There were merchants calling out for the sale of their wares, there were women calling out for the sale of sweets and fruit and drinks. There were children running through the street playing games and doing all kinds of other things. Cersei walked with confidence through the streets, ignoring the whispers and the looks, she knew roughly where the witch’s shop was, she’d heard about it and turned right down Slater’s Alley, and then left into Guild Corner and there it was, the shop. It was more of a shack than anything else, she stood before it and asked the Princess. “Do you wish to go in?”

“Yes.” The Princess said and so they walked into the shop, the door clinging with bells as they did so.

An old woman appeared then, her skin brown and fading, her hair tangled in webs of silver and black and her eyes were slumped and big. “Well, what do you want?”

Cersei shared a look of disbelief with the Princess, could this old hag really be a fortune teller. She moved forward and the old woman’s head snapped forward to look at her. “We wanted to know whether you are really a fortune teller, or just a fraud.”

The woman straightened then as if insulted. “I am Maggy the Maege, I have come from a line of seers that spans back long before the first men lived in Westeros. So, if you wish to know the future then you are in the right place.” There was a long pause and then the woman looked at Cersei and said. “You are filled with love and hate. You resent your brother and you idolise your father and mother. You want to be more than you can ever be. It will eat you inside and spit you out.”

“I do not understand.” Cersei answered honestly.

The woman, Maggy snorted. “Of course not. You are a child. But remember this, Cersei, you are a woman who will have many things go right for her, but before they do, they will go wrong and you will want to die.”

Cersei felt as if she’d been hit in the stomach. “How do you know my name?”

The woman snorted again. “I know all of your names. Princess Shaena, come to hear whether there is truth in the prophecy.” Cersei saw the Princess move slightly, uncomfortable. “I will tell you this. There will be children and there will be war. The Rat might be tamed, but the Hawk and the Pig are still at large and they will continue to wreak havoc until the Brotherhood is ready to emerge from the shadows. And you, Princess Shaena will play the largest role possible.”

“What nonsense is this? What are you talking about? The Rat, the Hawk and the Pig are nothing more than a fairy tale.” Princess Shaena said. “A story told to ensure that nobody got too many ideas. They were destroyed long ago.”

The woman laughed, or cackled she was not sure which was the more appropriate word to use. “Ah, child, you think that that is the case? You are not as silly as that to believe such a lie. They haunt the waking fabric of the Targaryen dynasty, as they have done since they first came to be with the Vulture King. And they will continue to haunt the dynasty until all is said and done, and the ground is littered with bodies.”

Princess Shaena sighed. “I knew this would be a mistake. Come , Dany, Cersei let us go.” The Princess turned and left the store, the door clinging as she walked out. Cersei followed shortly after, after seeing the woman looking at her with something akin to manic laughter in her face, that worried her.  As they walked back through the streets, the Princess spoke again. “I knew I shouldn’t have come. Mother was right. These people do not know what they’re talking about.”

“Why did you want to go and see her, Princess?” Cersei asked. She was still a little unsure of herself, and what the woman had meant by the things she’d said. Something was playing in the back of her mind, a memory of something, and she had to remember where it came from, for she did not think it was genuine.

“I do not know.” The Princess sighed. “I thought it might be an interesting experience, but I was wrong. Never mind, there will always be other times to discuss things of importance.”

Cersei nodded and they were silent again, Princess Shaena looked as if there were countless things on her mind, and Princess Daenerys face was unreadable. Cersei found herself struggling with the words that the woman had said. The way she had said them made her think that the woman truly believed them, but she was not sure why she would. It had been foolish to go there, that much was for sure. Foolish and not right and Mama would be disappointed in her for going, for entertaining such foolishness. She sighed and got on her horse, said goodbye to Ser Stafford and then kicked her horse onward, biting her tongue against how uncomfortable it was.

As they rode, Princess Daenerys spoke. “What did she mean when she said that the Rat, the Hawk and the Pig were related to the Vulture King? I thought the Vulture King was just some mad Dornishman the first time and the second time. Definitely not worth mentioning again. The Rat, the Hawk and the Pig were threats that harmed the royal family directly.”

“She seemed mad. Did you see her eyes?” Cersei pointed out. “I think she was speaking nonsense.” She certainly hoped so, the alternative was not something she wanted to think about.

“Yes, she was definitely mad. The rat, the hawk and the pig were things that hurt our great-grandfather and his grandfather not anybody else. They’ve been dead for decades; they aren’t relevant anymore. I think she was a madwoman.” Princess Shaena agreed.

“Will you tell the King, Shaena?” Princess Daenerys asked.

Cersei looked at the Princess and she realised then that the words the woman had said had been borderline treasonous and therefore as good subjects they would have tell the King, but then they would need to admit to going to see her and that would cause all kinds of other issues. She was very impressed when the Princess said. “I will tell him a version of what happened. And you shall all agree with me should he ask.”

“Of course, Princess.” Cersei said at once, to question the decision would be wrong. Still the woman’s words echoed in her head as they got off their horses and took the lift back to the Rock proper.


	26. Slither: Lothar I

The summer was growing longer and hotter, Lothar suspected that before the year was over there would be more bodies piled into the grove than there were now. The thought did not distress him as much as it might have done. Death was an inevitability, it was to be expected and embraced, nothing more and nothing less. Still, there were certain ways one could die and dying because your father was too much of a bone headed moron to accept that his power was not what it once was, was not right. Lothar had grown up quickly, one had to growing up in the Twins and he knew that when things got tough, that the family would turn on one another. Already, Walder Frey’s grip on the Twins was beginning to slip the longer he took to ensure proper due practice.

Walder Frey was a stiff old man, who was convinced he had more power than he actually had, and Lothar was growing tired of accepting this. Everyone else seemed happy to grumble in private but bend over and accept the harshness of his folly. Indeed, that much seemed apparent now. “We are running low on food and water, my lord. I do not think there will be enough to see us through to the end of the year.” Lothar said looking through the accounts and wincing every time he did so.

Father merely laughed. “Well then perhaps we shall see whether any of you are actually any good at surviving, or if you have merely been leaching off of me for the past few years.”

Lothar actually had to blink a few times then, was his father really suggesting that they engage in some sort of competition for food and water? What was this some sort of sick game? “My lord, I know this might not be welcome advice, but surely it is better to save the food and water and ensure that we can get more for when things take a turn, than to continue to hold out for something that is not really appropriate.”

Walder Frey’s weasel eyes narrowed. “I will not accept to doing anything wrong, when it is the crown who has done wrong. It was Tywin Lannister who ordered Emmon’s death, not me, not anybody else. Emmon did nothing wrong, he merely tried to talk some sense into that oaf of a wife of his.”

Lothar sighed, he glanced at Stevron, but the oldest son of Walder Frey was saying nothing, he looked at Aenys, and the third son of Walder Frey also said nothing. There was a long silence and then Lothar spoke. “Emmon spoke treason, my lord. He actively spoke about how he was going to bring down the crown and Tywin Lannister. He recognised Tywin as his liege lord and then spoke of bringing him down. That violates every single contract between a man and his vassal that there is known to us. He committed treason.”

“If speaking the truth is treason, then perhaps the crown and Tywin Lannister should consider arresting and executing half the lords in Westeros. For we all know that they do not speak so kindly behind closed doors.” Father snorted. There was a pause and then the man spoke again. “I grow tired of hearing your nonsense Lothar, Stevron what word do you have for us?”

Stevron was old, and aged, but he was still strong and Lothar had long hoped his brother would do something to remove the fool who was their sire from the throne of the crossing. It seemed that he had been mistaken to hold to that belief. “The Charltons and the Vyprens are massing their men and are merely waiting for us to come south. The Tullys are handling their own issues on their own lands, it seems the raiders we sent have done well. Mallister will be left on his own to handle us. And we should more than beat him.”

Walder Frey clapped his hands together. “Perfect.” There was a pause and then the man turned and looked at him. “Maybe you’d like Seagard, eh, boy? It’s got its own riches and talent and I believe Mallister has a sister or a cousin who is said to be quite the beauty.”

Lothar kept silent, he didn’t want Seagard, he wanted…well it would be better not to think about what he wanted. Aenys spoke then. “My lord, if I might? I think it would be best if we divide the host in two, one portion heading directly southward, and the other heading more toward Oldstones to ensure that whoever we come face to face with is not completely sure where to turn.”

There had been a time when Walder Frey had been a good commander, and as such he considered the options and nodded approvingly. “Very well then. But I want a forced march from the host marching directly south we shall not be caught up in the web of deceit that affected the Peakes when they rebelled.”

Hosteen spoke then. “My lord, if I might?”

Father waved his hand and Hosteen continued. “I think that it would be best to leave something akin to three hundred men here in the Twins itself. The frogs have been hitting us harder with the raids and as such we need to know they won’t try something bolder whilst the majority of the fighting men are away.”

That was actually a sensible suggestion from Hosteen, something that surprised Lothar, considering his brother was not exactly the smartest of men. Father seemed to think so as well. “Well, this is an unexpected piece of thinking from you boy. Now, I agree with what you say and I think that Lothar shall remain behind to guard the castle.”

Lothar blinked and then nodded. “Of course.” This made things a lot easier.

There was a brief pause and then Father spoke. “You all shall leave in three hours’ time. I want you to get as good a start on this as you can. Surprise will be crucial to ensuring that we have the advantage that we want.” There was some murmuring of assent and then Father waved a hand and they all walked out of the solar.

Lothar’s mind was filled with ideas and plans, half of which he immediately discarded as too risky and too noticeable. His father was a fool, not an idiot. He kept walking, through the corridors, nodding to various family members, and wondering not for the first time, why his father felt the need to have so many children. Lothar knew that his father had had two sisters, and maybe one brother, the two sisters were dead now, but the brother had died as a child as well. Perhaps Father felt the need to fill the hole that they had left behind? That would be something worthy of inspecting again. For now, though, he saw the door to his room and breathed a sigh of relief. He opened the door and walked in. He was about to sit down when there was a knock on the door. Wondering who it could be, he turned and opened it, and found himself looking at Stevron. “Brother.” He said, trying to keep his voice from filling with panic.

“Brother.” Stevron said commandingly. “Might I come in?”

“Of course.” Lothar said, moving to the side and allowing his brother to walk in.

Stevron was not wearing armour, but Lothar got the impression that this would not be a long conversation. His brother sat down and spoke. “What are you planning?”

“I don’t understand.” Lothar replied, his heart hammering.

Stevron snorted. “Come now brother, I was not born yesterday. I know more about you than you think. I know that you are not happy with what Father has been doing and I know that you are desperate to end the suffering of the family. So, I want to know, what are you planning?”

For a brief moment, Lothar considered lying, but then he remembered that every time he had done that as a child, Stevron had always known and the punishment had always been worse. He swallowed and then said. “I might be planning on making sure Father does not survive.”

He expected all sorts of reactions, but he did not expect Stevron to merely nod and say. “Very well, make sure you are careful with how you go about it.”

Stevron got up then and walked to the door, and Lothar called out. “Are you not going to say anything else?”

Stevron did not even bother turning round. “No. The less I know, the easier it will be for you.” With that Stevron opened the door and walked out of the room.

Lothar was left in his room, not completely sure of what had just happened. He stood there for a moment longer before turning to the other side of the room, and opening up another door, and walking through. There he finds someone else waiting for him. “Walder.” He nodded to his brother.

Walder Rivers nodded as well. “Everything is in order for when the time comes. You know what needs to be done.”

“I do. We must act quickly.” He paused for a moment, thinking of Stevron, briefly, he thinks about asking Walder to keep their oldest brother alive, but then decides against it. “Ryman will be fighting in the battle?” Ryman Frey the second in line to the Twins was a fool and did not deserve the titles he held.

“Yes. And he will be leading the charge. It seems that Stevron wants his own heir removed, so he can better shape Edwyn.” Walder replied.

Lothar nodded, and opened his mouth to ask a question, but before he could, Walder nodded. “Yes, Edwyn is also going. Little Walder has been preoccupied with chasing down those frogs in the swamp. He will not make it out alive.”

Lothar nodded again and then asked. “You are sure that this plan will work? Emmon might be dead, but his sons are still alive and they have a far superior claim to the Twins than anyone else, as long as they are around. And they are not going to be fighting in this battle.”

Walder put a hand on his shoulder and said. “I know it will work. We’ve received assurances that it will work, and I trust those who have asked us to do this. They have delivered before and they will deliver now. You need not fear what happens out there.” There was a brief pause then Walder spoke once more. “You have everything you need?”

“Yes.” Lothar replied simply.

“Good. I must go now, I shall see you when I return.” Walder Rivers said.

Lothar nodded and turned and walked out of the room and back into his own. He paused, looking around the room and then he walked forward to his wife’s room and opened the door.  Leonella was there, she looked up as he walked in and stood up. “Is everything ready?” She asked.

“Yes. I must head off now. My brothers will have left by the time I return.” He kissed her briefly. They were friends if not in love with one another, and that was enough for him for now.

She placed a hand on his cheek and whispered. “Be safe.”

Lothar nodded and kissed her again and then turned and walked out of the room. He made his way out to the courtyard where the men were gathered. The twin towers of the House of Frey were flying high in the sky, there were many mounted armoured men before him, Stevron at the front with the red plume he favoured in his helm. Ryman was at his side. Father was stood somewhere close by, his voice carried. “In the name of all that is holy, I ask you, bring back glory!” There was a loud cheer and then the gates opened and the men rode out to battle. Lothar said a quick prayer and then walked off to his father’s study as planned.

As he entered his father’s study and sat down, he looked around the room. It was filled with books and letters, and other things that Walder Frey had accumulated over a lifetime of being Lord of the Crossing, and a generally fucking annoying man. Lothar looked around the room and saw a letter sticking out, just waiting to be read. He picked it up and read through it.

_Dear Walder,_

_I know that this finds you well. It has been many years since we last spoke. I think it is appropriate that I now say that which we both know is coming._

_The world is changing, the crown grows stronger and it verges on tyranny, we must ensure that everything is in place before we act properly. There will be those who oppose you,  there will be those who question your reasons. You must ignore them and you must ensure that everything is as it should be._

_Regards_

_J_

Who was this J figure, and how did they know his father? Were they working together? Was this the mysterious member of the organisation that Father had decided to attach himself to? Lothar had a lot of questions, but he pushed them to the side and placed the letter back on the table when the door opened. His father walked in and looked at him once before saying. “I see you are here to do something then. Tell me, Lothar, what do you want?”

Lothar thought for a moment, there could be any sort of meaning to that question, and knowing his father that was probably the reason behind the question. Eventually he decided to merely give a simple response. “I just wanted to talk. With everything that is happening, I think that talking is going to be quite important.”

Father snorted again, and took two glasses from the table and pushed them forward, he then gestured at the decanter on the table as well and said. “Well, since you’re going to want to talk about something, you might as well pour me a drink.” Lothar nodded grabbed the decanter, opened it and poured himself a drink, and then he looked up and saw that Father was looking elsewhere, he poured Father a glass of wine and then kept the decanter raised and flicked his fingers, he saw the substance fall in and put the decanter down. He handed the cup to his father and took his own cup.

“So, what did you wish to talk about?” Father asked, taking a deep sip of his wine, Lothar hid a smile behind his own glass.

He put it down eventually and replied. “I think that the library needs a bit more work done to it. The shelves are all starting to creek and groan and it simply is not acceptable that we should have such a fine library turned into dust for something such as laziness.”

Father clearly had not been expecting that turn of conversation for his eyes were wide with surprise, still he answered all the same. “Very well, and what improvements would you recommend bringing to the library?”

Lothar considered the question, it was one he had thought over with some consideration for some time and so when he had marshalled his thoughts, he gave the best response he could. “I think that we must replace some of the current shelves with newer makes. The shelves in the library have not been changed in over a hundred years, and are starting to groan under the weight of the books they carry. We must also change the layout of the library; we must make sure that the most useful books are filed in a way that makes them easily accessible. And we must also ensure that we have the right people manning the desks in the library, the current librarian is useless.” That was not particularly true, but Haldon was Father’s man and Lothar wanted him gone.

There was a silence then, as Lothar looked at his father and found him blinking rapidly, his hands still clutching the cup. Lothar nodded to himself, things were going accordingly. There was a wheezing noise coming from Father now, and Lothar suspected that the plan was working just perfectly. There was another moment of silence and then with a great gasp, Father spoke. “I see. Haldon has gotten on in years that much is true. He was a young man when I was a lad, perhaps I have been wrong to overlook the growing discontinuity between his ability to manage the library and the knowledge he has.” There was another pause and Father gasped and sputtered some more, eventually he stopped and spoke again. “And how are things between you and your wife?”

Lothar hesitated, things between him and Leonella were still quite new, they had met perhaps three moons before the wedding and had written since that meeting till the wedding. Lothar knew Leonella had hoped to marry someone else, but they were overcoming that, and she was a friend, if not more. He was lucky in that, he knew his mother had never loved father or even liked him. He took a breath and said. “Things are going well. I think she should be with child soon enough.” He hoped so anyway, with what he was planning that was going to be necessary.

“Good, that is good.” Father said, there was another pause and then he said. “I know that she was not the bride you were expecting, but she was the bride that was most appropriate for you, I think. She has a kind disposition and is someone who I know you can talk to.”

There was something akin to happiness in Father’s eyes then and Lothar was reminded once again that for all his faults, Father did genuinely care for his family. Father started coughing and spluttering again though, preventing Lothar from responding. As he kept doing so, blood began trickling out of his mouth, and Lothar stood up and moved to him and whispered. “I am sorry, Father. But this had to be done.” Father continued wheezing and hacking away until he stopped and his body slumped. Lothar gave it a moment and then he ran out of the room yelling. “Help, somebody help! Lord Walder is dead! Help!” as the guards came running he pointed them in his father’s direction and grinned.


	27. Bricks: Jonos II

For centuries House Bracken and House Blackwood had fought one another. Nobody could quite remember what the fighting had been about originally, now it was about any little thing that came to mind. Jonos was tired, he had been fighting this war for as long as he could remember, it had consumed his father, and grandfather and now it seemed it would consume him as well. He knew that he did not stand a hope in hell of surviving the fight to come, there was too much stacked against him, but he would try and give it as a good a shot as he could. He was a Bracken after all, and they did not fall easily.

Jonos ran a hand through his hair and sighed. It would be a long time coming before he could close his eyes again. He wondered if there would ever come a day when this fighting would stop. If things went well, perhaps his daughters and nephew would be able to live peacefully. He ran another hand through his hair and then looked up. Maester Poole and Harras were looking at him intently. He sighed a third time and then spoke. “Very well, tell me all.” There had been a mixture of reports coming in from a variety of sources, and Jonos was not sure what to trust.

Maester Poole spoke first. “We have received ravens from Riverrun and from Casterly Rock. The King and Hoster Tully both say that they will overlook pass transgressions if you lay down your arms and ask your men to stop fighting now. They have made the same offer to Blackwood as well.”

Jonos nodded, he wanted to believe that the offer was sincere, but he had his doubts about that. “And? Do you think they mean that?” He had a feeling that he offer was more King Aerys than Lord Tywin, but Lord Tywin was still Hand of the King, it would be foolish to think that there was not something lurking behind the shadows for this.

Maester Poole shook his head. “I think they are trying to weave an elaborate web, my lord. They are trying to snare you into a trap, and one that Blackwood will more than likely walk out of freely.”

Jonos snorted, of course Blackwood would get away with this, he and the King were cousins. There was friendship there in a way that there wasn’t with him and the King. “So, what do you suggest I do?” he asked, though he already knew the answer, he had always known the answer.

“I recommend continuing the fight. If you win against Blackwood, if you slay Blackwood in battle, then you have the upper hand. Win the battle and you will be proven right in your claims, and the King will not be able to question that. The sword often defines the legality of previous actions.” Maester Poole said sagely.

Jonos knew that well enough, but still, he was hesitant. He looked at Ser Harras and asked. “What is the situation with Blackwood? Where are his men? And how many are there?”

Ser Harras had an eye missing, a result of the fight between Bracken and Blackwood last time. His voice was slow, contemplative. “There are around two thousand men at last count. But there are reports the Whents are coming to aid them as well.”

“Whents aiding Blackwoods? It seems Tully truly has used his family connections to make things better. I should be insulted by this, but I cannot find it in me to care.” Jonos replied, he had always known that Hoster Tully did not like him, had never liked him. “And what of their position?”

“They will more than likely take the high ground, my lord. Their archers prefer it and their pikemen are known for their manoeuvres from the high ground. It would be a blood bath if we engaged them directly, we must lure them into the open and strike from there.” Ser Harras replied.

Jonos nodded. “So, do you suggest we send one of their own out into the open then? Someone such as Ser William?” William Blackwood, brother to Tytos and a prisoner since the first conflict between the two of them. William was a man who never knew when to keep quiet, and as such, he’d provided Jonos with all sorts of useful information about Tytos Blackwood, information Bracken had provided to his superiors for the coming war.

“Yes, my lord. I think Ser William would be more than beneficial.” Ser Harras replied.

“Very well, I want him armed and armoured and sent out as soon as possible. The sooner we can distract Blackwood the better.” Jonos replied. He paused then, considering his options and then he asked. “What of our allies, where do they sit on this scale?”

“The Vyprens are approaching as quickly as they can. The last written communication we received from them stated they’d be here by evening. As for the Rootes, they should be here as well before long.” Ser Harras said.

Jonos nodded. “Very well. I want the men ready to march out after the midday meal. The sooner we leave here the better.”

Ser Harras nodded and then stood, bowed and walked out of the room, leaving Jonos alone with Maester Poole. Jonos looked at the maester and said. “Should something happen to me in battle, you know what must be done, maester.”

The maester nodded. “I do my lord. I will ensure the girls and Hendry receive the best possible care that they can. And I will speak to him.”

Who the him was did not need verbalising, they were both well aware of who he was and what he wanted. Jonos nodded his thanks. “Make sure you tell him that I did my best and remind him of the duty of care he owes to our family.”

“Of course, my lord.” Maester Poole replied.

Jonos exhaled again, stood, nodded to Maester Poole and then walked out of the room, his footsteps echoing on the walls as he walked. He knew he would need put on his armour soon enough, but for the time being he was more than content to simply walk through the castle. Stone Hedge was an old castle, one of the oldest in Westeros, certainly the oldest in the Riverlands. It had been added to throughout its tenure on the ground it stood on. And Jonos was very proud of the castle, it was an imposing structure and one that would leave a lasting impression for as long as it stood. He walked through the hall, opened the door to his daughters’ room and smiled as he watched them play.

He stood in the doorway for a little while, listening as Barbra and Bethany barked orders at Catelyn and then took turns to do their sister’s hair into elaborate braids. He smiled as he saw them help one another with their reading or whatever it was they were doing once they stopped braiding Catelyn’s hair. He watched and listened, all the while memorizing their faces. They were beautiful his girls, so very beautiful, and he knew that they would make good wives for any man, any lord or knight or baron. He cleared his throat and they all looked at him. “Daddy!” Catelyn squealed and she threw herself into his arms. He hugged her and kissed the top of her head.

“Are you being a good girl, Cait?” He asked.

His daughter nodded and looked up at him with amber eyes, her mother’s eyes and said seriously. “Yes, Papa. Barbra and Bethany were helping me braid my hair and learn about Ser Benedict Justman.”

Jonos nodded, if he knew his girls properly, which he hoped he did, then it was more likely that Barbra and Bethany wanted to know more about Ser Benedict and they’d made Catelyn read alongside them. He looked at his youngest daughter and then at his older two and asked. “Well, what have you learned about him?”

Catelyn squirmed a little until he put her down and she took his hand and brought him into the room properly. “He was the son of a Bracken and a Blackwood. A fine knight and a good man. He spent many years fighting the warring lords of the Riverlands until they were brought to heel and made his vassals.” Catelyn looked at Barbra for help and her elder sister obliged.

“He united the Riverlands behind him and though he was the son of both a Bracken and a Blackwood, he did not take either name. Instead inspired by his devotion to justice, he took the name Justman. Once he was crowned King at the Stoney Sept by the High Septon he spent much of his time travelling the Riverlands and ensuring that his lords held true to their promise of fealty.” Barbra said confidently, she would be a handful as she grew older.

“As he travelled around the realm, he learned more about his people. He learned what they liked and what they disliked, what sort of cider went well with certain types of meat and a great many other things. He married the daughter of a Tully and sired a great many children on her. He also met with other Kings and fought off the Ironborn three times and the Storm Kings twice. He was seen as some sort of God by the people of the Riverlands.” Bethany added.

“And how did he treat his two families?” Jonos asked curious as to how his daughters would treat the revelations about the Just.

There was a moment’s hesitation as his three girls looked at one another, uncertain as to how to treat this question. Eventually, it was Catelyn, bold Catelyn who spoke. “He treated them in a balance, Papa. Sometimes he would side with the Blackwoods if he felt they were being fair, and other times he sided with the Brackens if he felt hat they were in the right. He often tried to mediate between right and wrong and reach a compromise. Most of the time he succeeded, such was his power. Other times he failed and when he failed he fought both sides and defeated them.”

Jonos nodded, he remembered being over-awed at the knowledge that Benedict Justman had fought the Brackens and the Blackwoods at once and defeated them so thoroughly. He had always known that had he had a son he would have named him Benedict. Alas that was one thing he would never get to do now. He smiled at his daughters. “Very good. Now, you know I must go now, but I want you to remember this, I love you very much. You must never forget that.”

His daughters nodded and Barbra said. “You will come home though, won’t you Papa?”

Jonos hesitated, he did not want to lie to his daughters, but he also did not want to disappoint them. He took a breath and then said. “I will try my hardest to come home, sweetling. It might not be easy though.”

Barbra nodded solemnly and nodded at Bethany who walked forward then, a little handkerchief in her hand. “We made this for you, Papa, to keep on your travels and to remember us.” Bethany handed him the handkerchief and he felt something well up inside of him. the handkerchief was brown and red, with the horse of Bracken on it and the silver fish of Jonos’ wife on it. He took it and smiled at his girls.

“It is lovely, thank you.” Jonos said softly. He pulled his daughters in for a hug and hugged them tightly, praying to the seven that he would return to see them grow and marry. He kissed them softly and then let go. They moved back and he asked. “Where is Hendry?”

“He’s out in the yard, Papa.” Barbra replied.

Jonos nodded. “Thank you, sweetling.” He looked at them one last time and then turned and walked out of the room. As he walked away this time to the courtyard, he could imagine what his nephew would say. He found him staring listlessly at the horses as they were prepared for war. “You cannot go.” Jonos said firmly.

His nephew turned around, his brown hair long and his chin showing signs of stubble. “I know.”

“Then why are you here?” Jonos asked gesturing at the horses and the general chaos of the courtyard.

“I…I came to say goodbye, I know there won’t be enough time later.” Hendry said softly.

Jonos nodded. “Very well.” There was a pause, he had never truly known how to speak to his brother’s son. “I am proud of you Hendry.” He said simply. “You are my heir now. Remember that. Always put the house before anything else.”

“I will, uncle.” Hendry said softly.

Jonos clapped his nephew on the shoulder, then turned and walked back inside the castle. He walked to the great hall and had a light lunch, he could not really think about eating anything, not with his nerves as high as they were. Once he was finished he walked out of the hall and to his rooms where he changed into armour and plate, the things weighing him down. He walked out and mounted his horse, his handkerchief tied around his arm. He nodded to his family, the gates opened and then they rode out.

As they rode through the countryside, Jonos found his mind curiously blank, it was relaxing. When he was informed that Ser William had been released he merely nodded and continued riding. It was refreshing knowing that now there was only a weapon between him and victory, or death. There was nothing else. No politics, no pigs, no rats and no hawks there to create chaos or unsettle him. Simple war and battle, that was what he had wanted from the beginning, nothing more, nothing less, and now he was getting it.

As they approached the ground, they found Blackwood men there waiting, the dead trees on their banners glistening in the fading light. Jonos called a halt, and one thousand men stopped. He took another breath, and silence fell over the battlefield, as the two armies stared at one another. Jonos knew that whatever happened here today, this was it, this would be the final fight. There would be no more Bracken-Blackwood fighting after today, either he would win and the Blackwoods would die, or he would die and the Blackwoods would consume everything. He said another prayer, took his lance from his squire, nodded at Ser Harras and felt a shiver run up his spine as the horn sounded.

Jonos said another prayer, then spurred his horse forward. Leading in the van as he had always done, as every Bracken had always done, he felt his horse speed up, going with his increased heartbeat, he felt it all through him. The lance was steady in his hand, despite the constant movements, the ground disappeared before him in a flurry of activity and light. The enemy was approaching now, he could feel their heated breath on his front, his lance raised itself up, and then there was an almighty crash. The lance took over, soldiers were flung and pushed away, armour was dented, boys screamed, men roared, and the battle began in earnest.

His lance took on a mind of its own, it led him to find battle, to find those who should be broken and those who would be left behind. He allowed it to grow and to growl, to drink and to feed. The ground was soaked red, and he was panting and his heart was hammering. Jonos shook his head and heard a rattle in his helmet, he spurred his horse on and saw it take a bite out of somebody’s arm. Another turn and another person lay buried on the ground. Jonos felt elation, their numbers were thinning, perhaps victory was truly insight. He kept moving, determined to not stop, he could not break, not yet, not now.

Somewhere during the fray, his lance broke, snapped in half by some over eager parry. He drew his mace then, using it to smack sense into the opponents who dared challenge him. Jonos had always taken pleasure in this part of the fight, especially against the Blackwoods. His body was aching, he could feel some dull pain somewhere, but for now it did not matter. What mattered was breaking the Blackwoods completely. His mace picked up frenetic speed when he saw a knight with the red plume of Ser Harras fall and not rise. His brother was dead, he would get his revenge. His mace smashed and crushed many, and his horse continued on her course, until suddenly he was off his horse and his legs were hurting.

Jonos blinked, his helmet was off, his armour was broken in several places, and his horse lay dead several feet away from him. He struggled to get up, he fell down, got up, fell down and then managed to get up and stay up. His mace was nowhere to be found. He saw someone approaching him, and he staggered to meet his opponent, he caught the swing in his gauntlets and grunted at the pain, the man kept pushing and eventually he let go and fell. He staggered back up and got smacked in the face, he fell again. This time he felt the cold edge of the blade pressing into his face, he grunted, and tried to rise, unsuccessfully as the person pressing the blade into him pressed their heavy boot onto his back. He could feel the aches and pains growing now, could feel desperation rising as he struggled to breathe. He tried to rise, but couldn’t, strength left his body, his mind flittered images of his daughters and a time long before this one, a girl’s voice, and the smell of pig. He grunted as the blade pressed deeper, it was cold, very cold.


	28. Duskendale: Ned VI

****

“Why can’t I come with you? I’m old enough to come with you! I’m ten namedays old!” Jaime said, his voice echoing around the small room in the Tower of the Hand.

Ned saw Lord Tywin’s jaw tighten and hesitated, before he could speak, Brax spoke. “You are also heir to Casterly Rock and the eldest son of the Hand of the King. You would make a far more prestigious hostage should something go wrong than either myself or Ned.”

“Do you think something will go wrong? I want to be able to help! Ned’s only three years older than me, why should he go?” Jaime asked, a pleading note creeping into his voice.

Ned wanted to speak but got the feeling from Lord Tywin that doing so right now would not be a good idea. He kept silent and waited as Lord Tywin clenched and unclenched his hands and then spoke. His voice was soft. “You will remain in King’s Landing, Jaime. You are ten namedays old. You are too young to go to war; you are too young and you do not know enough about being a squire to be able to be of use during the fighting.”

Ned cringed slightly at Lord Tywin’s words, there was perhaps a better way to phrase what he had said, but Lord Tywin had never been very good at that sort of thing, at least not from what Ned knew. Jaime’s lower lip was now bigger than his lower lip. “But Ned has been a squire for as long as I have. How can he know more about this than I do?”

Lord Tywin’s patience for this conversation seemed at an end for he placed a cup down on the table-what Ned had come to see as his version of slamming his fist down- and said. “Jaime, enough of this. You will remain here and that is that. Now, I will ask Tygett to accompany you back to your rooms, I must discuss things with Ned and Tytos.”

Jaime pouted but nodded and turned and walked out of the room. There was a long silence afterwards, and Ned knew that Lord Tywin was making sure that Jaime had actually left and that he was not just standing there waiting and listening. Lord Tywin cleared his throat and spoke. “You know why we are going to Duskendale do you not?” Both Ned and Brax nodded. Lord Tywin looked at them expectantly. “Well?”

Ned looked at Brax and Brax nodded, so Ned spoke. “The Darklyns are refusing to pay their share of the taxation and the King has after much consideration decided to launch an attack on Duskendale to teach them a lesson. He has decided to take the might of the Crownlands with him to make a point. We are going to be a part of that force.”

Lord Tywin nodded. “And you understand what might happen during the course of this fight? The Darklyns and the Hollands are a proud people. They do not take lightly to people coming and demanding things from them. As of now they have a great many things going for them, and as such we shall need to move about carefully. The King knows this. Consequently, he has tasked me with commanding the vanguard. Do you know what that means?”

Brax spoke then, his voice confident, and brash. “It means that you shall be leading the charge, you shall be the first hammer through onto the walls.”

“Indeed it does.” Lord Tywin replied, a look on his face that Ned had never seen before. He did not know how to describe it. It was as if he had discovered some prized possession and was trying to figure out how he had gotten so lucky. There was a brief quiet and then the Hand of the King spoke. “We are leaving very soon. I shall give you time to prepare. And if Jaime asks it of you, tell him the truth.”

Lord Tywin waved his hand and both boys bowed and walked to the door and then out of the room. As they walked, Brax whispered. “You know, this is going to be something that is going to make us or break us.”

Ned raised an eyebrow, Brax could often exaggerate things. “What do you mean? It’s a battle, a conflict, not some sort of song.” Ned knew that the stories of battles in the songs and the great feats they spoke of in them were just that, they were just stories, not facts.

Brax laughed. “Oh come on, Ned. You’ve got to understand the seriousness of what we’re embarking on.” Ned did not quite get what Brax meant and the older boy chuckled. “Of course not. The Darklyns are one of the oldest houses in Westeros, they were once Kings and they once ruled much of the Crownlands. For generations, they have been Targaryen men, and now suddenly they’re rebellion. Do you know what that means?” At Ned’s curious expression Brax smiled.  “It means that there will soon enough be a city, an actual city up for grabs. And whoever serves well during the fight could well end up with that city. That means a second son with no prospect of land could become Lord of Duskendale if they land the Hand or the King’s favour.”

Ned was surprised by this he had not thought of that, he had thought the Darklyns would be spared and that Lord Darklyn would suffer the consequences, but now he thought about it, it did make sense. They continued walking the rest of the way to their rooms in silence, when they got there, Jaime was waiting for them. “Well?” He asked eagerly.

Ned sighed. “You know you can’t come, Jaime, and you know why. There’s no pointing sulking over it. You’re just going to have to wait.”

“Besides,” Brax added. “You’ll get to spend time with Princess Daenerys, isn’t that what you want?”

Jaime blushed. “I want a lot of things.” His foster brother had been odd recently whenever the Princess’ name had been mentioned he’d go very quiet. Very quiet indeed.

Brax laughed. “Well, at least now we’ve got that sorted out. Sorry Jaime, but we’ve got to get ready.”

Jaime’s shoulders slumped and his voice was very soft when he said. “Okay, I’ll leave you to it.”

Brax smiled and patted Jaime on the shoulder before walking out to his own room, leaving Ned alone with his foster brother. Ned sighed seeing just how hard his foster brother was fighting to try and not cry. He moved forward and pulled Jaime into a hug, feeling reassured when Jaime hugged him back. “It’s alright kid,” Ned said not knowing where the words were coming from. “You’ll get your chance to fight.”

“Yeah?” Jaime mumbled into his chest.

“Yeah.” Ned replied. “Who could resist the temptation to fight the best swordsman in Westeros.”

Jaime giggled and said. “Thanks Ned, I’ll let you go now. Good luck.” They pulled apart from one another and Ned smiled at his foster brother before turning and moving to his own room.

He took some time getting ready, his fingers were shaking, with nervousness or excitement he did not know. It was really happening; he was going to fight an actual battle. He could finally tell Brandon that he too had fought in a battle, with swords and mess and other things. Maybe then Brandon would look at him and see a true person, not just some other idiot. Ned shook his head and chastised himself for that thought.  The last time he’d seen Brandon he’d been a boy, they both had. He put on a jerkin and breeches and then placed the armour on. It was silvery blue, and it weighed something heavy. He moved relatively easily in it though, and once it was on, Ned moved out of the room, nodded to Brax and then with Brax made his way over to Lord Tywin’s quarters. Slowly but surely they helped Lord Tywin put on his glowing red and golden armour. He looked like something out of a story, Ned thought. That was good. Lord Tywin was armoured and ready and they moved out of the rooms down the steps, like a well-oiled machine, notes and paper were handed out, other things were said and prayers were prayed. They came down to the courtyard and Ned hurried off to grab Lord Tywin’s horse from one of the stablehands. 

The King and Prince Rhaegar were present as well, both would be riding off to fight in the battle. Both were dressed in black as night armour, though the Prince had rubies encrusted in his armour whilst the King’s had streaks of fire on it. The King looked at them and then at Lord Tywin, a glint in his eye. “Are you ready, Tywin?”

 Lord Tywin nodded. “Yes, Your Majesty. When do you wish for me to depart.” Some one thousand men would be under Lord Tywin’s command, bringing with them battering rams and trebuchets to batter down the walls of Duskendale.

“Now. Now that we are all here, I see no reason to make any delay about it. leave now and finish this.” The King replied.

Lord Tywin agreed. “Yes, Your Majesty.” There was a pause and then a shout went out for the gate to open. Slowly but surely the gates were opened and they descended down the slope toward the city properly. The people cheered them as they left, crying out blessings for good luck and whispering about something or the other. Ned felt their excitement in his bones and it filled him with excitement as well. Brax’s face was impassive as far as Ned could tell over the clattering of hooves and the thudding of marching feet, but Ned was brimming. Lord Tywin must have sensed this for he said over the din. “Remain alert, Eddard, for you never know what might come from out of the shadows.”

Ned nodded and then remembered that Lord Tywin could not see him and therefore said. “Yes my lord.” They rode in silence after that. The people were still filling the streets as they approached the Lion Gate. A dozen trumpets were playing some sort of song, perhaps the Dragon’s Roar, Ned did not know, but it continued as they rode through the opened gate, and out into the countryside properly. It was only as they moved into the woods that the trumpets stopped playing. Now they were left with silence.  The journey would take a fair few days, Ned knew that much and so he was prepared for the lengthy silences that would come.

As they progressed through woods, it began to rain slightly, but they kept going, Lord Tywin wanted to reach Rosby before they stopped, Ned knew that and so they kept going. However, it seemed the weather had other ideas, for it started raining even heavier once they got passed Little Landing and as such Lord Tywin had to call a halt for a period of time. Ned remained a horse though, as Lord Tywin also remained a horse staring at the rain. “The rain will cause them to grow confident.” Lord Tywin said suddenly, Ned got the impression he was speaking more to himself than to Ned. “Darklyn never had any sense. He will keep his people inside instead of preparing to man the walls. They will never see the trap before it is set.” Lord Tywin fell silent after that and Ned was left to think about his words.

The rain stopped a few hours later, and they started marching again. More men joined them as they advanced on to Rosby, it seemed the local knights and sheriffs wanted a piece of the action. Ned understood the reasoning why. Should things go well here or should they get overactive then perhaps they could claim something and get a reward from the King. Rosby arrived before them, a small keep and a lot of land. Lord Rosby was an old man who constantly coughed and spluttered but he gave them lodgings for the night. They settled down inside the castle, and Lord Tywin received word that the Knight of Sow’s Horn was rushing to aid Duskendale. “Let them.” Lord Tywin said. “He will die all the same.” There was nothing more said and in the morning they broke their fast and continued on their way.

The rain stayed away for their journey. Instead it was blistering hot, Ned could feel himself baking alive in his armour, sweat was falling off his face in alarming quantity. Still he pushed through without complaint for Lord Tywin was quiet. Before he knew it, they were there. Duskendale loomed large, towers, spires, the banners of the Darklyns and history was present before him.  Standing on one of the main walls was a man with black hair, blue eyes and armour on. “Lord Denys.” Lord Tywin called out when they came to the walls. “End this nonsense. Pay your taxes and this need not go any other way.”

Lord Denys was silent then he replied, an odd note to his voice. “I cannot. Unless the King gives me what I want, I will remain as I am.”

“That will never happen.” Lord Tywin stated, an odd anger in his voice. “You are finished.”

Lord Denys laughed but said nothing, he turned and disappeared. As Lord Tywin moved back to where the men were waiting, Ned whispered to Brax. “Something is wrong with him.”

“Who, Lord Tywin?” Brax asked.

Ned shook his head. “No, Lord Darklyn. There’s something odd with him. Could you not see it?”

Brax laughed. “Ned, you’ve just seen the man from afar, you don’t know him.  He’s committing treason, maybe that’s why he’s acting so odd.”

Ned felt that wasn’t a good enough explanation but he kept quiet. They arrived where the men were, and Lord Tywin called out. “Begin.” The trebuchets began whirring to life. They moved forward, their wheels carving a path in the mud before them and then they stopped. They were moved back, then snapped forward with alarming speed. The rocks flew in the air, Ned counted to four and then they hit. The ground shook with the force of impact, the people on the walls, what few there were screamed in fright, and then again as another set hit, and another set. Lord Tywin raised his fist and the barrage stopped. Ned observed the wreckage, there were bits of debris everywhere, the walls were broken in three places and bodies were lying there unmoving. “Surrender, and this can all stop.” Lord Tywin called out. There was no response then an arrow was fired out into the middle of the emptiness. “Attack.” Lord Tywin said drawing his sword, Ned and Brax stayed close to him as they rode down the slope through the wreckage and into the city and found it empty.

 There was nobody out in the open. Doors were barred shut. “Where is everyone?” Brax asked aloud, and Lord Tywin did not reply, he merely gestured to his men who acted without thought. Doors were broken open and people were literally dragged from their homes. The procession stopped and people were forced to their knees. Words were muttered and then these people screamed. Their blood decorated the streets and the walls of  the houses they had once lived in. Ned watched in horror, his tongue somewhere else, clearly not working. They left the bodies where they had killed them and moved on. Another street and the same thing happened. People were dragged out of their homes and killed. Eventually, it seemed Darklyn snapped and men came out to fight.

Ned drew his sword his hands shaking as he held live steel for the first time. He heard the screams of the dying, he felt bile rise in his throat, this wasn’t like the songs at all. There was no glorious reason for the fighting here. There was no maiden to save, no beast to slay. Nothing. The men approached and he felt as though he were watching something happening somewhere else. His sword moved, but he did not remember swinging it. He nicked someone and then knocked down someone else, and he did not remember how he had done it. Ned saw the little girl who had died when her parents had been dragged out of their house as his sword moved. He saw himself kill that little girl, and he saw Lya in her place. He saw his blade go into Lya’s head, he saw Lya’s eyes roll backward and her body fall down lifeless. Ned wanted to scream, but he did not how to do so.  His tongue had deserted him.

Somehow they moved forward. Somehow they destroyed more of the men attacking them, then anyone else. His sword was red, his body was covered in sweat, his armour was a weight around him. Ned saw a man who looked like Maester Walys, the man was walking and crying, for someone, or something. He saw the man cut down like he was nothing. His body trampled over by a horse. Ned turned round and realised he had trampled over the man, he looked at his sword, outstretched and dripping and realised he had killed the man. He had killed Maester Walys. He nearly screamed.

It went on and on. More men came and they died. Ned saw members of his family, he saw Father in the man with grey hair who stood with his sword and fought fiercely, he saw Mother in the woman standing over her children, he saw Brandon in the bold boy not much older than him who stood and died with a knife in his hand and a smile on his face. He saw Lyanna again in a girl standing protecting Benjen. They all fell in the end though, he killed them. The weight around his shoulders did nothing, it stayed and it crushed him. Until suddenly it was over. The fighting had stopped. Lord Darklyn was in chains alongside his wife, and brother and children. The King was there, badly wounded but still there. Words were said, and the King laughed as Darklyn’s head came off his body. Ned was there when the woman’s tongue was torn out and her body left for the men. He saw it all and he saw nothing. He staggered away and threw up, and felt a hand on his back. He looked up and saw Lord Tywin, he turned back and he threw up again.

 

 


	29. The Aftermath: Jacaerys I

****

There was rubble everywhere. Duskendale was quiet, the bodies were still burning, the stench of death and decay was still very much present in the city. King Aerys had been very thorough in his destruction of the Darklyns and the Hollands. None of them were left alive and the people of Duskendale had had their homes destroyed, their families destroyed or torn in half and so much more. Ser Jacaerys walked amongst the people, his hood up, his nose wrinkled. He walked passed a boy with a cup in his hand, begging for whatever passers-by could spare him. Out of pity more than anything else, Ser Jacaerys threw him a dragon and walked on, ignoring the boy’s calls of thankfulness and happiness. There were more important things to be doing.

He turned into an alleyway, and saw the sight where the knight of the Kingsguard had died. There were whispers about what had happened. Ser Gyles Greycloak had come with the King, instead of protecting Princess Daenerys, and he had fought bravely until the King had ordered the arrest and seizure of one Myrela Rogare. Rogare was a beautiful woman and she had been an attendant of Lady Serala. It seemed the King had wanted her gone as well, and Ser Gyles had fought hard to prevent that. He had died at the hands of someone or the other, the details were sketchy and Jacaerys was willing to leave them be. He had liked Ser Jacaerys, the man had been a kind soul, and a very good swordsman. His replacement, Ser Arthur Dayne would have much to learn in the days to come.

The Kingsguard remained formidable though. Lord Commander Ser Gerold Hightower was getting on in years but he could still break a man with one hand. Ser Barristan the Bold was as quick as ever. Ser Harold Grandison might appear slow, but there was a smartness there that lurked behind the shadows, just waiting for the right moment to strike. Ser Jonothor Darry was loyal beyond all reason and he had done more things for the King than many might have thought sane. Ser Gwayne Gaunt was another formidable opponent and one who remembered the days of King Aegon’s reign and the wars that came. Ser Oswell Whent was a young man, the son of a powerful lord, and a formidable swordsman with a deadly sense of humour he had saved the King more than once. And now there was one more. The youngest of the Kingsguard. Ser Arthur Dayne, recently given Dawn sixteen namedays old and the Prince of Dragonstone’s closest friend. Jacaerys had watched his progress with great interest and he was relieved with what he saw. The boy was quick, fast, smart and agile and adaptable, that last was important, very important.

Jacaerys snorted to himself, he was getting sentimental in his old age. He spared one more look at the spot where his friend had died, and then he turned and walked away. Down the streets that were littered with people, begging or arguing, all of them wanting something the others did not have. The King’s punishment was a harsh thing. Duskendale would recover in time, but right now it was the spot of gangs and lawlessness. Controlled lawlessness of course, the King was not a fool, he knew the risks of allowing such a city to go without a lord for too long and so Jacaerys had kept his men in place, allowing them to continue their descent into power. There was a girl with blonde hair, she stared at him, her eyes wide. She could not see under his hood, Jacaerys knew that, but still her gaze was somewhat unsettling, he looked back at her and then he knew who she was and he snorted. So, the old fool had decided to come had he? Very well, Jacaerys nodded to the girl and kept walking.

The King had decided to grant the Twins to Lothar Frey, after the death of Walder Frey and his immediate descendants during an attempted assault on Seagard it had made the most sense. Lothar Frey was the man who had fed them the information of his father’s activities, and had made clear that he did not agree with the old weasel. The man had not known about anything to do with the Rat, The Hawk and the Pig, but Jacaerys suspected that if he were to push through the defences he would find some scrap of information lurking beneath the surface. The man was a Frey after all. As for the Brackens, Jonos Bracken had died during his fight with Blackwood, leaving behind a nephew and three daughters. Blackwood demanded the entire Bracken inheritance, but that would’ve made him far too powerful. Instead he got the lands on his northern border whilst Hendry Bracken became a ward of the crown and the title of Lord of Stone Hedge went to the crown. Jacaerys suspected that the King would wait for a son to be born again or for a grandson and then he would kill off the older Brackens and marry said grandson to Catelyn Bracken. That would be what Jacaerys himself would do if he had any children.

He continued walking down the Street of Fish, smelling not fish, but something much more disgusting, the smell of rotting bodies and the bowels of people who were not yet dead. Sure, enough, as he stopped he came face to face with a hospice. Women and maesters were walking around trying desperately to get the dead and the dying to stop smelling, but they were having no luck. Jacaerys stood where he was for a brief moment admiring the view. He knew the girl was behind him, but he would wait a moment before revealing he knew why she was following him and who she was following him for. The smell grew worse as they added acid to the proceedings and that was when Jacaerys decided enough was enough. He took a deep breath and said. “You can come out now.”

There was a brief silence, then the sound of feet hitting stone and the girl appeared. Dirty blonde hair, and pale green eyes, pale face. She was scared. “How did you know I was there?” she asked.

Jacaerys snorted. “I am a man who has served as a master of secrecy for longer than most people have been alive. I have known more plots than you have years on this planet. So, of course I would know you were there.” He kept his hood up, she might know of him, but she did not know him and he intended to keep it that way. “Tell me, what is it he wants?”

The girl shifted from foot to foot, her nervousness giving her away. “How do you know it is him that wants anything?”

Jacaerys snorted once more. “Do not give me that nonsense, girl. We both know he sent you. I would know what he wants.”

The girl shifted again, but this time she moved forward. Jacaerys kept himself rooted to the spot. “He wants to know when the next time to strike would be. He wants to know why Duskendale happened.”

Jacaerys laughed. “I do not answer to him. I never have. He is alive because I told his cousin to keep him alive. So, you can tell him to either come and ask me himself or to stop bothering me.”

“He said that you would have to tell him this. That there would be no reason to hide anything. He wants to know, and you owe him.” the girl replied.

Jacaerys stared at the girl, the thought of owing her master anything was a thought so repellent he actually wanted to snort and kill her right now, but instead he kept his breathing even and replied. “I will give you an answer, whether it is satisfactory to him or not is none of my concern.” A pause, the girl was interested, he knew that her life depended on getting a solid answer from him and so he said. “Ask me the questions you want answers to.”

“Why did Duskendale happen?” the girl asked, and Jacaerys was disappointed, surely the man could’ve chosen someone smarter, bolder to ask him these things?

“Duskendale happened because Darklyn grew greedy on the promises of a group who had not been within the public eye for twenty years. He foundered on their lies and now he is dead and two ancient families are dead.” Jacaerys replied. He suspected he would find something within the city if he looked hard enough, but right now he needed to see what this girl knew.

“Bracken and Frey are still alive, their houses are still ruling, why then did the King decide to remove the Darklyns, when the Darklyns had always been loyal before?” the girl asked.

“The Brackens and Freys are down in their standing with society for their rebellion. They are now on the King’s good graces. Darklyn had that chance and he threw it away. There was nothing more that could be done.” Jacaerys replied.

“What will happen to Duskendale now?” the girl asked.

Jacaerys got the sense that she was asking more for herself than for her master. He took another look at her and saw the tell-tale signs of abuse and nodded to himself. “Duskendale will stand and it will rebuild.”

The girl’s shoulders relaxed as she exhaled. “Very well. Thank you.” With that he watched as the girl disappeared down the street and through the slopes of the city.

He stood where he was and then he clicked his fingers and other figures appeared. “Did you see the girl?” He asked.

“Yes, my lord.” Borros replied.

“She was lying, my lord. Her master did not send her here.” Janos stated, disgust in his voice.

“Naturally.” Jacaerys said. “She came here of her own free will. Now that is what I want to know. Why did she come here and not wait till later.” He knew who her actual master was and it was not who his friends thought it was, he kept quiet on that matter though. “Follow her. Find out where she goes and where she stays. Find out who she speaks to and who she avoids. I want to know everything.”

“Yes, my lord.” Borros replied before he disappeared back into the shadows.

Janos waited a minute and then whispered. “Do you trust her?”

“It is not a case of trust, Janos. It is a case of seeing who is what and why they are what they are. That is all that matters.” Jacaerys replied patiently.

“If she cannot be trusted what do we do?” Janos asked.

Jacaerys kept himself calm, though he wanted to throttle Janos. “You do what is necessary to protect the King and the Royal Family.” There was a pause then Janos too disappeared, leaving Jacaerys alone in the street.

The smell of fish was growing more and more acidic; it was becoming hard for him to breathe properly and so he walked through the stench onto the other side. There were more houses, this was where the merchants and the guilds had stayed. They too had been touched by the King’s attack on the city, but they were suffering more from the lack of trade than from any physical destruction. He walked into the Guildhall and spoke to the first person he saw. “You know staring at the sign isn’t going to bring customers in.”

The man had a brown beard and a head filled with grey. He jumped slightly and then said. “I know, but it cannot hurt to look, to remind oneself.”

“Are you sure you’re not trying to torture yourself?” Jacaerys asked.

“Maybe I am. Maybe I am not. I don’t really know anymore.” The man replied.

“Are you truly as gone as that?” Jacaerys asked.

“I do not know. I think that in time everyone goes that far and they never come back. Father never did.” The man replied.

“Your father was a weakling. You are not.” Jacaerys stated.

The man laughed. “You always knew how to give a rising speech.”

Jacaerys grinned under his hood. “You always needed it. Tobho, why are you still here?”

Tobho Mott sighed. “I do not know. I thought I’d find something here. But there is nothing.”

Jacaerys stifled a groan, his friend had always wanted something more than he could get, especially when it came to the things from Valyria. As softly as he could he said. “You know that the Darklyns never wielded Valyrian Steel, I doubt they kept any detailed record of the stuff and its properties within their city or even amongst the guildhall.” He paused and then gestured at the sign. “So, staring at that is not going to do any good.”

Mott ran a hand through his hair. “I know. Still, it would’ve been nice.” His friend looked around and then whispered. “Let’s get out of here.”

Jacaerys kept his hood up and walked with Mott through the doorway of the Guildhall, down the corridor which was lined with portraits of men who were long since dead and rotting. They stopped when they came to a small room, the door was locked, but Mott opened it with a quick one two move that Jacaerys had seen him use many times before, they walked into the room and Jacaerys saw the dust and the blood and sighed. “Why are we in here of all the rooms?”

“Because, there is something I need to tell you.” Mott said.

“What?” Jacaerys asked. He did not like the sound of this, nor did he like how Mott was shifting.

“The Rat, the Hawk and the Pig. They’re real, you know that. You know they were back and operating. Only one of their number has been removed. The other two are out there.” Mott said.

Jacaerys already knew that. “And? What is it?”

“The Hawk is the one doing the marshalling. I know this because I overheard Darklyn soldiers talking about how their lord was adorning their castle and their city with hawk masks as if in homage to this man or woman, or whoever it was behind the mask. It is said that a man with a hawk introduced Darklyn to his wife and that the man constantly visited to ensure things ran smoothly.” Mott replied in a rush.

Jacaerys had not known this, he had searched high and low for more information on the Hawk, perhaps he was getting slow in his old age. “Do you know who was behind the mask?”

Mott shook his head. “No, but I do know that they had great sway over Darklyn and his wife. It was the Hawk who convinced the man to refuse to pay taxes and to demand a charter for his people. He wanted all of these things to serve as a distraction.”

Jacaerys had an idea of what this distraction could be, it had been used fifty years ago as well. “What was the purpose for the distraction?”

“To ensure that the money and the resources that were being harboured here could be taken out of the city without anyone truly noticing they were gone.” Mott said.

Now this was news to him. “What resources? I was not aware there were any resources within the city.”

“Swords, daggers, armour, coin, books, maps, all things that one would need to plan for a war or an invasion. The Hawk wanted them in great quantity and ensuring that they were taken out without anyone getting in the way was the thing’s top priority.” Mott said, something off in his voice.

“How do you know this Tobho? And don’t give me this nonsense about only knowing it because you overheard some soldiers talking about it. No soldier would know this much. You would only know this much if you had either worked for Darklyn or if there were some other reason for you knowing it.” Jacaerys said.

“I… I was a thief before I became a Blacksmith. Learning things is in my blood. You know this, that is why we became friends.” Tobho said, the odd note in his voice growing.

“Tobho, what has this got to do with anything? What have you done?” Jacaerys asked, though he had a sneaking feeling he knew what was about to happen.

“I did everything that was asked of me. I ensured that the information got passed through, the King was good to me. But then they found me. They found me, when I was told they would never find me. They took advantage of my family and my wife, and I could never live with myself after that. I did what they asked, and now, well now here we are.” Mott rambled.

“Tobho,” Jacaerys said holding his hands up. “Whatever has happened, it is fine. I am sure we can fix it. I’m sure we can ensure that nothing wrong happens anymore. Just trust me on this. Come with me to King’s Landing, and we can ensure that this never happens again.”

Mott’s eyes were wild when he replied. “You cannot save me. Nobody can save me. I have betrayed myself and my family and my King. I must end this now.” He drew a knife from his pocket and pointed it at himself.

“Tobho, think about what you’re doing for a moment. Just think about it.” Jacaerys pleaded.

It was as if time slowed down then, Mott plunged the knife in so slowly that Jacaerys had moved forward three steps by the time blood started pouring out. He saw Mott’s eyes widen and then saw him fall to the ground with a deafening clatter. Jacaerys stared at his friend and then felt a knife press into his own back and he sighed. “So, it was you. I figured you’d be here.”

“Good to know you’re not too slow.” The girl replied, giggling.

“Why are you acting like a girl, come now, show me your true face.” Jacaerys replied bored.

Blond hair fell to the ground and the knife dug into his back. The voice was deeper. “Very well. Are you ready to die, old man?”

“I am now. Get on with it.” Jacaerys said. “Oh and Varys? Make sure to clean up.” The eunuch laughed and the knife pressed in further.


	30. Rock: Tywin VI

Since Duskendale, there were days when the stench of blood and decay would fill his nostrils and make him stop what he was doing. There were days when he needed to breathe and fight for the very things he had lived for so long for. He had to remind himself of who he was and what he was. Duskendale had been brutal, far more so than what had happened to the Reynes and the Tarbecks. Duskendale had come as a surprise. The King had not responded well to a former vicious ally turning into such a vicious enemy, and so they had reflected that feeling in their attack. There were boys and girls who would never grow up into anything more than pale shadows now. The Darklyns and the Hollands had gotten what they had deserved for rebelling against the crown, but the others, the people of Duskendale? Tywin was not sure whether they deserved their fate and that nagged away at him.

The King had said his piece when Duskendale was done and they had returned to King’s Landing, there had been no celebrations despite the fact that Frey was dead, Bracken was dead and now so was Darklyn. The rat had died a gruesome death at Seagard, and the Pig and the Hawk seemed to have died with him as well. Yet there was a feeling unspoken between Tywin and the King that there was more to it. Ser Jacaerys had died in Duskendale as they had known he would, and so his new replacement had come, highly vetted by Ser Jacaerys beforehand and trained by him as well. Yet that was not where Tywin was now. 

No, he had a duty other than that as Hand of the King. He was a father figure to two boys who had seen something that no boy should have to see. He had brought them along because he had wanted them to experience a siege. He had not thought that it would become as bloody as it had. He had hoped it would not. That had been a mistake. He stood before them both, he saw the way Tytos held himself, his shoulders rigid, his eyes laughing but not filled with laughter, and he knew that the boy was having difficulty reconciling everything. Then there was Eddard, the second son of the Lord Stark, with grey eyes, and short brown hair, and an expression that most of the time Tywin could not read, could not decipher unless he really looked. The boy looked as though he had not slept for days.

Tywin cleared his throat and said. “What happened at Duskendale was something more than what you thought it would be.” As Brax went to protest, Tywin held up a hand. “I know that, for it was the same for me.” There is silence as both boys look at him in surprise. “The Darklyns were traitors as were the Hollands and they deserved the fate that they got. However, I did not think that the people of Duskendale would choose a liege lord who was doing them more harm than good, over their King who was merely trying to reason with a rebellious vassal. And for that I apologise. Had I known then perhaps the mess you saw could have been avoided.” That was the truth, or as much of it as Tywin would give two boys, one of whom was nearly a man and the other who was still a child.

Neither boy said anything and so Tywin continued. “I remember the first battle I fought. It was against some rebels who had donned the masks of those who had insulted the royal dynasty once before. I was nine namedays old. The fighting was most furious and at the end of it all, a Prince lay dead alongside the rebels. I did not sleep for days afterwards.” Whether that had been from grief due to his master being dead, or from the sheer horror of what he had seen, Tywin did not know, he was not sure he wanted to know. He looked at the boys and saw that they were listening to him intently and so continued. “The first time is always the worst. There is so much expectation. The songs make you think that what is about to happen will be some glorious thing, something that will be remembered fondly, but that is a lie. You find out that it is a lie the moment you cut down someone, or you see someone die. When you hear someone cry out for their mother or their father, or their wife or beloved, then you know that what the songs tell you is a lie.” Tywin remembered hearing a boy some five namedays older than him crying out for another boy, someone he later learned was the boy’s lover. He had wept for days after that, in private away from Steffon and Aerys. “When the energy courses through you, you do not think that perhaps there is something else going on. Blows that come do not hurt as they should, and the wounds and dents you see are nothing compared to the elation you feel. When the fighting stops and you have had a chance to calm down and think, you feel horrified at how you felt. You want to deny that you enjoyed it. That even though you are largely horrified at everything, some part of you did enjoy it.” Eddard was looking at him now, his eyes wide, and Tywin knew that this applied more to the Stark boy than it did to Tytos. “That is normal. It is normal to wonder why it is as it is. And now, if you have anything you wish to discuss, please do.” He had spoken to Prince Duncan once, long ago and had this same talk.

Nobody said anything for a long time and then Eddard spoke his voice soft. “At night I see them. Their bodies piled high, I see them staring at me. They demand I answer for what I did. And I do not know how to answer them.”

Tywin listened to the boy and does not say anything, for Brax spoke next. “I…I hear their cries, during the day, when we’re sparring or when I’m doing something else. I know the Darklyns deserved their fate, but what about the people of Duskendale? Did they deserve to die like that? TO have their fate carved out for them by the King who is supposed to protect them? I know that that is treason to ask, but still, are they really deserving of such a fate? What will happen to them now? Now that they are without a lord?”

Tywin paused, thinking over the question, then when he had reached an answer he spoke. “The people of Duskendale were casualties of their lord’s folly. They did not deserve the fate they were given that is true, and yet it is the fate they have. Regardless of what we might want for them, we cannot go back in time now. All that can be done is to ensure that they are provided for. The King is ensuring that that is done.” He had ordered shipments of food and money to arrive at Duskendale in regular intervals. “The young will recover quicker than the old, that much I can promise you. They will rebuild and they will grow and in time they will come to accept what has happened.”

“I…It just doesn’t seem like enough.” Tytos replied. “We…we did that to them we made sure that they couldn’t break through again, that they would never see their families or their loved ones ever again. We ensured that they were broken on the back of what some idiot did. Why did they not stand and fight alongside us? Why did they fight for a man who had showed that he clearly did not care for them? I do not understand that. I cannot understand that. Why would they willingly risk themselves and their families on the chance that the Lord of Duskendale would emerge triumphant against the King of The Seven Kingdoms?”

There was such resignation in Tytos’ voice that Tywin felt his heart grow heavy. He remembered asking such a thing once long ago, and getting a response that left him angrier, not satisfied. He took time to consider what he would say. Having decided on what he hoped was the right response he said. “Because people are foolish. They believe lies and whatever lie suits their desire at that time they will do as asked. They cannot think for themselves in such situations for they do not know how to. They look to their betters for advice and hope, and when their betters are like Darklyn then they will lead them into a pit of hell that cannot be brought out of. It is our duty to ensure such a thing never happens. For when the people are left to their own devices then things go terribly wrong.” As he said that he thought of what he had seen in the southern Westerlands, where bandits had been elected as lords and where the people died and starved by the thousands, all the while allowing the bandits to tell them to blame the Rock. He had killed those bandits and hanged everyone else, as a message against such foolishness.

Eddard spoke then, his voice questioning. “Will it ever stop?” Tywin took one look at the boy and he knew then what the boy meant.

“In time it will fade away. It does not ever stop, but there are ways to deal with what haunts you at night. You can take milk of the poppy, but that would dull your senses and that is not something you want at such a young age. You can talk about it with people who know roughly what it is you are going through, and you can continue to train and practice. But it will never go away.” Tywin replied simply.

“And will we need to fight more wars like this? Or was that the last and only one?” Eddard asked, and there was such hope in his voice that Tywin felt like a monster when he replied.

“I am afraid not, Eddard. There are many out there who would still oppose the King and as such we must ensure that they are fairly dealt with. We cannot have them out there causing trouble. The safety of the Seven Kingdoms depends on it.”

Eddard’s shoulders slumped. Tytos put an arm around his friend and said. “Thank you, Lord Tywin. We shall leave you now and stop disturbing you.”

Lord Tywin waved a hand. “You are my charges; it is my duty to ensure that you are well. If you need to talk, please do talk to me.” Both boys nodded and then turned and walked out of the room.

Tywin watched the boys go, his heart heavy. There would be more fighting of that he was convinced. There was more to this scheme that Frey had seemingly concocted than he was willing to admit, or rather that Lothar Frey was willing to admit for Tywin was not convinced that the new Lord Frey was as innocent of his father’s schemes as he pretended to be. He looked down at the letter he had received from Volantis. The triarchs wanted to end the siege on Braavos as they were growing tired of laying siege to a fellow eastern power. Tywin knew that the elephants really wanted to end the siege due to the upcoming elections and the fact that Volanteene profits had been slipping recently. He snorted, he would not budge on that matter unless the King wanted him to.  He pocketed the letter, stood up and made his way out of the Tower of the Hand and toward the King’s solar. As he walked he saw children playing, he saw men sparring and he saw ladies flirting with courtiers. He smiled, this was what court was, it was peaceful and playful. But there was always a danger of the game creeping in. So far they had crushed the game, but it could rise again. It would rise again. Tywin arrived at the King’s solar, nodded at Ser Barristan and Ser Gwayne and then entered the room. The King was sat in front of the fire, staring at the flames. His voice was distant when he spoke. “So? How did it go with your squires?”

“Well, I think.” Tywin replied honestly.

The King snorted. “I suppose that is as good as it is going to get really.” A pause, the King was still staring at the fire, but his hands were twisting and turning as they often did when he was nervous. “You know, when we were boys, I was always very jealous of you, getting to go out and fight against the Rat, the Hawk and the Pig with uncle Daeron whilst I was stuck in King’s Landing. Then I remember hearing the stories of the fighting and I remember being quite grateful that I was too young to go.” There was another pause, and this time the King turned around away from the fire. “Do you remember the first time we went out to fight, together?”

Tywin nodded. “We were boys still, and I think the Brackens had rebelled again.”

“Brackens, Rygers and some other house had rebelled against grandfather. They had Lord Hoster hostage and so we had to move out to handle them. It was quite the battle.” The King replied.

Tywin hummed in agreement, he had killed ten men then and been so shocked he’d not heard the King asking him how he was until he had reached King’s Landing. “How did we deal with it?”

The King sighed. “I do not know. It took me a very long time to come to terms with what had happened. And I think I took that out on Rhaella.” There was shame in the King’s voice, and so Tywin remained silent, he knew that things between the King and Queen had not always been as good as they were now. “I think eventually I talked about it and slowly healed.” There was a pause and then. “You know why I had to do what I did in Duskendale?”

Tywin sighed. “I do Your Majesty, that does not mean I agree with it. But yes, a point has been made and I do not think anyone would stand to reason against you now.”

“Good.” The King replied. “I want you to stay here for a little while. I am inviting the new Master of Whispers here to give me a demonstration of his abilities and I want you to see what he does and what you make of him.”

“Of course, Your Majesty.” Tywin replied. There was a pause, then the door opened, Varys, the master of whispers entered. He was a bald man, slightly plump but he smiled and then the King spoke.

“What is the key?” Tywin was surprised by this question but listened to see how the eunuch would respond.

“The key is the answer to the riddle of who let the darkness into the world. The key is believed to be an actual key, but this is false. It is symbolic of those who would pursue power for power’s sake, nothing more and nothing less. One of the key lives within the walls of this very castle.” The man replied.

“And who is that man?” the King asked.

“Lucerys Velaryon.” The eunuch replied.

Tywin hid his surprise; the King did not seem that surprised whatsoever instead he asked. “And now, what happened when the Freys plotted their treason?”

“Walder Frey wished for immediate action, but Lothar Frey cautioned patience, he ensured that Emmon Frey was pushed into revealing more than he was supposed to, thus ensuring that he would have to be executed and therefore ensuring that Walder Frey would drive for war. Lothar Frey wanted to become Lord of the Crossing by any means necessary and so now he has achieved this goal he will continue to serve at the crown’s pleasure, but only so long as he retains the permits for the crossing.” Varys stated.  There was a pause and then Varys said. “He wants to meet with members of the Brotherhood in three days’ time to discuss more favourable rates for the toll.”

“They’re trying to head into the north?” Tywin asked surprised.

“No, that is merely a disguise that Frey threw out there to distract anyone who would look. They are truly meeting to discuss rewarding Frey for doing the work he was asked to do. And now that his father and Bracken are gone there is a void in the Brotherhood’s ground leadership, they will offer him a chance to take up that gap.” Varys responded.

“And who are the people who are going to be meeting him?” Tywin asked.

“Lyman Corbray, Edwyn Waynwood and Donella Forrester.” The eunuch said calmly. “They are merely the base of the Brotherhood, there are more members who my little birds are working on finding. We shall have their names and their purposes soon enough.”

Tywin had to admit he was impressed with the information that Varys had gathered, it was all new and relevant information and was sure to help them when it came time to handling the Brotherhood. He looked at the King and saw that the King was smiling. “Very well, that is all thank you, Varys, you may go.” The man bowed and disappeared before them.

A moment later the King turned to look at him and he said. “I think he is good. What do you wish to do about the information he has given us?”

“I want men waiting for Lothar Frey and his friends and I want Velaryon watched. This time they shall be punished accordingly.” The King replied.

Tywin nodded and bowed. “Yes Your Majesty.” As he walked out of the solar he felt a ripple of excitement run through him.

 

 


	31. Dusted Ashes: Jaime VI

After visiting home again-and wasn’t that an odd thought, having to visit home- Jaime had spent time thinking about the differences between the Rock and King’s Landing. There were a fair few that he could think of straight away. Casterly Rock was bigger, grander and certainly more rich in terms of flavour and colour. The Red Keep however, held the appeal of being the capital of the Seven Kingdoms and consequently would always hold that aura of being something bigger and better than what it was. However, there were three things that the capital did not have that the Rock did. That was his Mama, his sister and his brother. After visiting the Rock, Jaime missed his family terribly.

They wrote to him regularly, Mama filling him in with stories and other such things and reminding him to be a good boy and asking him how he was doing. Cersei wrote to him about gossip, and Tyrion, well his little brother was only five namedays old but he was getting through his numbers and letters far quicker than Jaime had at his age. It was nice to be able to talk to them through the letters, even though they weren’t there. Still, he missed them terribly and he couldn’t wait for the time when they could see each other again. He had spoken to Ned about that, and his foster brother had said what he always said. “It is normal to miss your family when they are so far away, and you are here.” Jaime suspected his foster brother was speaking from experience but he never mentioned anything so Jaime did not know.

His foster brother was currently sat across from him, reading through some book or the other, ever since he had come back from Duskendale, Ned had spent more time reading about things than fighting, though when he did venture into the sparring yard there was a ferociousness to his swings and blows that had previously been missing. Jaime had wondered at that, but had not asked Ned about it. As he watched his foster brother read, he felt the urge to speak. “You know, I think it’s odd that the Seven Kingdoms exist, but that they’re treated so very differently.”

Ned stopped reading and looked up at him. “Seven Kingdoms as old as time itself, of course they would be treated differently, to expect any different would be foolish, or would require someone such as Aegon the Dragon to come back again with the equipment that is available now.”

Now that intrigued Jaime, he remembered how the people had reacted when that child had been cured by his touch, and he wondered at it. “Do you not think the current King is able to ensure proper treatment of the Seven Kingdoms?”

Ned paused, a finger pressed against his lip. “It depends on what you mean by proper treatment. If you mean ensuring that their traditions are respected whilst also ensuring that the laws of the Seven Kingdoms as structured by King Jaehaerys the Wise are implemented, then I think any King could do that, so long as he were not King Jaehaerys the Feeble or King Baelor the Befuddled. However, if you mean what I think you mean, then yes I think that His Majesty King Aerys is able and willing to do what you suggest.”

Jaime wasn’t sure what he meant by his previous question, but he knew what Ned had often told him and so instead of admitting that, he instead asked. “And what do you think I am suggesting?” It always fascinated him watching Ned think and get into action with something. His foster brother always came to life when that happened. Jaime wished more people could see that.

Ned looked at him for a moment, his finger playing with his lower lip, and then he said. “I think you’re suggesting something similar to what the Kings of the North and the Kings of the West had. Where there was one Kingdom, one law and one people. All of this other nonsense was not there. I think that King Aerys is very capable of ensuring that this comes to be, but I think there would be a lot of resistance to it.”

Jaime had heard about the divisions that were present barely pressed under the surface in the Seven Kingdoms and the idea that those divisions could be removed fascinated him, and had increasingly fascinated him since he’d heard about what had happened at Duskendale, such a thing should never have happened. “Why do you think there would be resistance? Do you think it’s because people are more like Darklyn than they are like your father or mine?” Jaime saw something flicker behind Ned’s eyes at Duskendale but then it disappeared.

“Yes.” Ned said simply. “People are slow to adapt to change, and when there is change that could be beneficial to all they are more resistant. Many are too slow and stupid to understand that a change such as this could ensure that there is more law and order within the Kingdoms, that there should be only one Kingdom not seven, that there is more to serving as a noble than fighting and doing such primitive things.” There was a vehemence in his brother’s voice that Jaime had never heard before.

Jaime thought about that and then asked. “How would one ensure that there was one Kingdom, not seven and that they all worked together as one harmonious unit?”

Here Ned was thoughtful. “You would need to ensure that the things that the nobles and lord paramounts use as the moment to differentiate themselves from each other were removed, or that they were taken and shaped into something representing the Targaryen dynasty. You would also need to change how the younger generation were taught. They would need to be taught about the need for unity, instead about individual history and culture. For the longer that remains in place, the less cohesive the Kingdom would ever have a chance to be.”

Jaime listened and then asked. “So, to create a truly prosperous Kingdom, you would need to remove the individual cultures of the realms?”

“Yes.” Ned replied.

“That is…that is something.” Jaime thought, he knew the Andal kingdoms primarily shared the same culture but there were little things that differentiated them, but Dorne and the North and the Iron Islands that would be something else entirely.

Ned seemed to know where his thought process was going for he said. “For one kingdom sacrifices must be made. It has always been the way.”

Jaime mulled over that thought, he was not sure he approved of it, and he was not sure whether he disagreed with the sentiment. All he knew was that if there was going to be more fighting as Ned seemed to think there was, then perhaps something needed to be done. In a small voice, he asked. “Do you think we shall need to go to war again?” He hoped not, or at least he thought he did. He didn’t want to see the haunted look in his brother’s eyes again, he didn’t want to see Ned thrashing about in his sleep crying out for someone who Jaime knew had died long ago. But then there was a part of him that wanted to experience a battle, to see whether it was like what the songs said it was, or if it was something else entirely.

Ned did not respond immediately, he seemed as though he had drifted away to somewhere else. His hands rested on the book he was reading, his breathing was normal, Jaime had learned how to listen to his brother’s breathing after one of Ned’s panic attacks. He knew when his brother would have one and what needed to be done to ensure they weren’t as severe as they had been in the beginning. Ned blinked. “I think that there is a very good chance that we might have to march off to war again. Especially with Lothar Frey having been arrested and brought in for questioning.”

Lothar Frey had been caught trading information with people who were decreed enemies of the King and the Kingdom and he had been arrested and dragged down to King’s Landing. His family had been executed for being party to his crimes as well, and Jaime suspected that cousin Cleos would be named Lord of the Crossing soon enough. Jaime thought over what he had heard about why Lothar Frey had done what he had done and he asked. “Do you think Lothar Frey always intended to betray the King? If so, why did he enable his own father to be killed and his brothers to be defeated?”

Ned raised and lowered a shoulder. “I think trying to understand someone such as Lothar Frey is going to be difficult regardless of what angle you come at it from.”

“How do you mean?” Jaime asked, usually Ned was very committed to understanding people. It was through Ned that Jaime had come to gather a better understanding of various courtiers and others as well. This change in his approach was surprising.

Ned sighed. “Lothar Frey comes from a family which is so large they could probably field an army on that basis alone. His father was a man who did not care much for anything other than hoarding money and ensuring his sons competed for favour. That does things to a man. I think Lothar Frey went mad long before his father cooked up any such scheme as he did. And now I think he knows nothing more than that. I think he was a lost cause before he ever decided to turn on his family.”

Before Jaime could respond there was another voice that replied. “I agree.”

Jaime turned around and saw his betrothed standing there. Dressed in a purple dress, her hair loose, she looked pretty. Jaime stood up as did Ned and they both bowed. “Princess Daenerys.” Ned said formally. “I should leave.”

Dany held up a hand and said. “No, please stay. I wanted to speak to both of you.” Dany walked into the room properly and sat down in one of the spare chairs, Ser Jonothor Darry, who was now her sworn sword after Ser Gyles’ death stood behind her. “Sit, please.” Dany said and so they sat. A moment passed and then another, then Dany spoke. “I think you are right Ned, I think that Lothar Frey was most definitely a lost cause. I think he was merely biding his time and if the people he was caught with are any indication this goes deeper than we first thought. I know Papa is deeply worried.”

“I thought the King did not share much of anything with you or Princess Shaena?” Jaime asked. Dany had complained about that to him once.

Dany laughed. “Oh he doesn’t, but I know how to listen to what he doesn’t say. As does Shaena. I think he’s worried that things will go wrong and we might be at risk.”

“Why?” Jaime asked.

It was Ned who answered though. “Lothar Frey is symbolic of the rot within the current system. The King is trying to change that, and the more he tries to change, the higher the risk that someone will try and rebel and take what he holds most dear. That being his family.”

Jaime thought about this and then nodded, it made sense. “So, what will happen to the Freys once Lothar is dead? They’ve already been put into hot water before, and now they are doubly so.”

“They will have to work hard to ensure they keep their place. And I think they will need to keep their heads below ground and not do anything that gets them noticed.” Dany replied. Jaime saw his betrothed sigh then and he reached out and took her hand. She smiled at him. “I think we should talk about something else.”

“Of course.” Jaime said instantly. “Did you manage to finish that book about Queen Naerys?”

Ned perked up but then shifted back inside himself, and Jaime wondered why he did that, Dany liked Ned, he knew that because she’d told him so, but Ned always seemed so hesitant around people now, ever since Duskendale. Dany replied before his mind could go wandering down that path. “I have. It was a really good read though there were a few things I disagreed with.”

Jaime quirked an eyebrow and asked. “And what might those be?”

“I did not like the way Maester Kennett gave Aegon the Unworthy such an easy time of it. He made it seem as though it was all Naerys fault that her husband was an unfaithful lout who never did anything for her beyond give her the two children she loved above all else. He made it seem that Naerys was responsible for her husband constantly straying and always doing something other than what a husband is supposed to do for his wife, which care for her and protect her. Yes, Naerys constantly praying and ignoring her duties did not help, but a more balanced account such as the one provided by Maester Coleman might have ensured a better perspective.” Dany replied.

“How would you change Kennett’s book then, if you were writing it?” Jaime asked intrigued, and visibly aware that their hands were still linked.

Dany spoke on oblivious. “I’d present both points of view, that Naerys was subjected to a man who never loved her or even cared for her and made sure she was aware of that in every waking moment. Then I’d also show the view that Naerys was constantly praying and fasting, doing things that weren’t good for her or her children and that Aegon was not a man to be easily won over by such things. Then I would try to reach a middle view and present a balanced conclusion. I think Kennett suffers from the fact that he harboured Blackfyre sympathies.”

“He did?” Jaime asked.

“Well, the accounts of his life suggest he did.” Dany said. “He worked for Daemon Blackfyre for a time, he also worked for King Aegon the Unworthy a lot, he did work for Queen Naerys sparingly, he also worked for Princess Daena as well. He has a bias there.”

“Kennett also produced a work on the Starks that focuses more on Edric Stark and his line than anyone else.” Ned said suddenly.

Jaime looked at his brother who had gone quiet again, before he could respond, Ser Jonothor spoke. “Princess, it is time. We must make our way over to the courtyard.”

Dany nodded, she looked at Jaime and he let go of her hand and immediately felt the loss of contact, but then he got up as she did, and so did Ned. They made their way out of the room, down the steps, over the bride and out onto the courtyard. There was a small crowd gathered, mainly courtiers, the King was there and Papa was there as well, looking regal in gold and red, the badge of the hand of the King on his chest. There was a man kneeling on the ground, his beard long and unkempt. The King spoke. “Lothar Frey, you are hereby accused of plotting against the crown and planning treason. How do you plead?”

Lothar Frey looked less like a weasel than other Freys, but there was something maddening about him, something off, it made Jaime shiver, Dany pressed closer to him. “Guilty.” The man said.

“Ser Illyn, bring me his head.” The King said.

With one swing the head was removed from its body, it rolled onto the floor before being picked up and moved toward Traitor’s Gate where it would be put up to serve as a reminder to all what happened to traitors. The crowd slowly dispersed, Dany going to her mother and sister. Jaime stood where he was for a moment before he felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked up and saw himself look at his Papa. Lord Tywin’s voice was soft when he asked. “Are you alright, son?”

Jaime looked at his father, Lord Tywin had many faces, there was his lord’s face which was cold and unflinching, there was his husband’s face which was filled with love and care and there was his father’s face which was filled with love, care and something else, some unnamed emotion. Jaime took a moment and then he nodded. “It was quick.”

His father nodded. “Indeed it was. You understand why it had to happen?”

“Lothar Frey was a traitor who went against his King. He spurned the rewards he had been given. He did not deserve to live longer. He needed to be removed and an example set.” Jaime responded.

Lord Tywin sighed. “Indeed he did. And do you understand what the King is trying to do?”

Jaime was not entirely sure why his father was asking him these questions, but he knew if he asked that, he’d get one of those disapproving looks. Therefore, he nodded and said. “Yes, the King wants to make the Kingdoms into one, a more cohesive and proper Kingdom that works for everyone.”

“Good. Now, if you will, I need to speak with the King.” Lord Tywin walked passed Jaime to where the King was standing, talking to a bald man who looked slightly terrifying to Jaime. He watched Lord Tywin nod to the man and then speak with the King for a moment before turning around and walking to where Dany was standing. She looked quite pale. “Are you okay?” He asked.

“Yes, it’s just sort of cold.” Dany said rubbing her hands together.

“Here let me.” Jaime said taking her hands between his and rubbing them together.

“Thank you.” Dany said smiling.

Jaime nodded and then asked. “I thought dragons couldn’t feel the cold?”

Dany sighed and said. “Something about today just seems off.”

Jaime didn’t think so, but he said. “Let’s get out of here then.” And together with Ser Jonothor behind them they made their way over to the Red Keep properly.

 


	32. Talking To Myself: Ned VII

The Red Keep was alive with the sound of music, with the sound of people laughing and talking, with people living. Ned saw them, these people who were living their lives with their hearts full and their hopes and dreams alive in their eyes and their words, and he envied them. King’s Landing was a place that he had once been terrified of, then he had been willing to see it as home and now, well now he was not sure what he thought of the place. Only that the walls around him seemed to be closing in, that the sky might be bright outside but the world was darkening inside him. There were times when Ned wanted to scream and tear his hair out for the pressure that built inside of him, there were times when he wanted to cry for the loss of something he didn’t understand, and there were times when he wanted it all to end. Those were the hardest times.

He would stare into the darkness and wonder where he was going, where he was heading and why he was going there. He would wonder what was happening to him, why he felt like this. Why when the sky was bright and the birds were singing, he felt like he was dead, that there was nothing more to him beyond the pain that was creeping inside of him. Ned would sit for hours and read, he would try to think of ways to make it go away, sometimes he succeeded, other times the realisation of why the rot had set inside would come. It always came back to that one moment. To Duskendale. The bodies of the dead played before his eyes, they taunted him during the day. When he saw a father with his children knowing that someone in Duskendale would never be able to experience that. It taunted him when he saw a boy talking and laughing with a girl who was blushing, for he knew that someone in Duskendale would never be able to do that. The memories haunted him. Seeing people who were no different to Father, to Mother, to Lyanna, to Benjen, they were gone now, and he’d put them there, in the ground away from where they could ever see the light.

He'd done it in the name of his King, he knew that, knew that the Darklyns were to blame for it, but how could he justify that to the ghosts who taunted him at night? He couldn’t and it was eating away at him. Everything seemed dark when it should be light. It was not right, and he wanted to scream. The sound of music stopping brought him back to his senses. He saw Jaime looking at him with a concerned look on his face and he shook his head and smiled. He did not want to trouble his foster brother with this, Jaime wouldn’t understand, would feel bad for Ned, and Ned did not want that. Not tonight. The Hand of the King stood up and spoke. “My lords and ladies, we are gathered here today, to celebrate. A bountiful year in the fields has produced much of what is here before you. The Braavosi have finally agreed to surrender their stupidity to common sense and the embargo on them is coming to an end. The King and Queen are in good spirits, and that is in itself a great reason to celebrate. So, before we tuck in and eat and drink, make sure to celebrate what you have and to be grateful for the blessings of the King.” There was a murmur of approval, Lord Tywin held up his class and said. “To the King!”

“To the King!” Ned echoed with the others taking a deep gulp of his wine before putting it down on the table.

Lord Tywin sat down and the King got up, dressed in his finery, he looked every inch like a man from a song. His voice was clear. “Thank you, Tywin. My Hand is right, it has been an eventful year, a good year, a great one some might say. And whilst there are many things to celebrate, we must also remember that which has been sacrificed this year to ensure that we could have the things we so desire.” There was a contemplative pause, before the King continued. “There are builders who have passed onto the other side whilst working on ensuring there were orphanages and centres built for the poor, to give them somewhere to sleep at night. There were soldiers who died fighting for their people to keep the peace, and there were the maesters who have given much to ensuring we know more about the world around us.” The King raised his cup and said. “To them I say thank you and may the seven bless you.” Ned raised his cup alongside the others and said the toast before the cup was put down, the King continued. “Now enough speaking for now, let us eat and drink!” there was a hearty cheer, the King sat down and the food was placed before them.

Ned did not know what was before him, and he found that he did not much care. The fog was returning; he took a deep breath and picked up his knife and fork and began cutting the food into smaller pieces. He then pierced the food and put it into his mouth. Ned ate and drank, but did not speak to anyone, he listened to the conversation around him. Lords Celtigar and Bar Emmon were speaking about some new tariff that the King had implemented and how it was going to increase their outbound duties by three percent. Celtigar was complaining about that whilst Bar Emmon thought it was a good thing. Ned had learned from Lord Tywin that people were most open about their disagreements over trade whilst eating and drinking and therefore he kept his mouth shut and his eyes on his plate. He listened as Celtigar spoke. “I do not see why we need a ten percent increase, especially now Braavos has surrendered and agreed to terms. It seems frivolous to me.” Considering the things Celtigar had done with his own earnings that made Ned want to snort.

Lord Bar Emmon seemed of the same mind. “Adrian, you have spent more money on making that hovel of yours less of a hovel. That the King wants to ensure the money gained actually is used for the good of the Kingdom is commendable aim.”

Celtigar snorted. “A commendable aim that he will want all of us to get involved in. I tell you, this whole thing is some sort of scheme to reduce our power. He wants to expose us for what we are, not what he wants us to be. And that will not go down well. Does he not realise that this is what his grandfather tried to do and it ended badly for him?”

Ned leaned forward then. Was this going to be the way he got an answer to the elusive question of Summerhall?  Lord Bar Emmon seemed hesitant to reply. His voice was barely above a whisper, and it was only with some good fortune that Ned managed to hear what he said at all. “I think that we must be careful. King Aerys is not his grandfather, he knows more about how the world works and how the nobility work than his grandfather ever did. And with Lord Tywin at his side, he is near enough untouchable.”

“If that is the case then why did three very powerful houses rebel?” Celtigar asked. “If Lord Tywin had the sort of aura everyone wants to credit him with, these people would never have considered rebelling. And yet they did, and the King was caught with his pants down.”

Bar Emmon whispered something in response, and Ned could not hear it. He saw them start to move out of the corner of his eye and quickly pulled back to make it seem as though he was looking at his plate, which was surprisingly empty of food. He heard someone snort to his left, and turned and nearly gasped when he saw Ashara Dayne sat next to him, when had that happened? Ashara looked more beautiful than ever, with long silver hair and violet eyes, her purple dress made her stand out and gods she was something else. His throat felt dry, he did not know what to say or if he could even speak properly. She put a hand on his arm and spoke. “Are you really going to listen to these old men squabble?”

Ned blushed and Ashara laughed, her laugh sounded like music to him. He wondered if he could say something that could make her laugh again, but found that his mouth still refused to cooperate. Ashara didn’t seem to mind. “I think they’re talking absolute nonsense you know. If the King wanted to, he could have them both executed and their lands declared forfeit. They are only allowed to remain where they are because of his grace.”

Ned nodded in agreement, then found his voice. “What would you do with them?” It is a start but not a conversation he really wanted to have with Ashara. He knew that if Brandon was here his brother would’ve made some sort of joke by now that would’ve made Ashara laugh. The thought made him angrier than it perhaps should’ve done.

Ashara tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and said. “I’d let them tie themselves in knots trying to figure out what I was going to do and then exploit their uncertainty for the benefit of the kingdom.” Ned, found he approved. Before he could say so though, the music started up again and though he could’ve sworn he had eaten any of the other courses he did not feel hungry. The music played and Ashara’s face took on a wistful appearance.

Not entirely sure what he was doing, Ned asked. “Do you want to dance, my lady?”

He was rewarded by a bright smile that made his heart skip a beat. “I would love nothing more.” They both stood up and he took her hand and let her to the floor. The music was fast it was some sort of jig, and somehow he remembered the lessons Lady Joanna had given him all those years ago and managed not to make a fool of himself.

As they danced Lady Ashara spoke. “You’re quite good at this, I’m surprised you don’t dance more often Ned.” Hearing her say his name like that made his spine tingle and his blood rush.

“I…I… am not that good a dance.” Ned replied hoping against hope that he would not stand on her toes, that would not be right.

Ashara giggled. “Well I think you’re proving yourself wrong just now.” They danced and danced then the music stopped, and they had to change partners. Ned found himself having fun, he didn’t miss a beat nor did he stand on anyone’s toes, it was, dare he say it fun? The music changed again this time a slower dance, and he was back with Ashara. “Ah good, I’ve been missing you, my wolf.” He felt his heart stutter a little at her words.

He managed to reply before the moment became awkward. “And I, you.” She smiled at him and his heart stuttered again. They danced slowly, her arms around his neck and his around her waist. They moved in time to the music and for a moment Ned thought they were the only two people in the world. It was something else entirely. They moved in time to each other, and as he stared into her eyes, Ned thought he could get lost there, he wouldn’t mind getting lost within her eyes, with her.

All too soon the music stopped, but instead of pulling away, Ashara whispered. “Come with me.” She took his hand and pulled him out of the room, he went willingly. They were on a balcony staring out into the night sky. She shivered slightly and before he knew what he was doing he was wrapping his arms around her. her head rested on his chest. He wondered if she could hear how quickly his heart was beating. “This is nice.” She said.

Ned hummed in agreement, watching her more than he was the stars. He was trying to control his breathing, but his heart was betraying him, he wondered why Ashara had not fled already, Brandon had written once saying that women did not like men who showed so much, and Ned knew he was showing far too much. And still Ashara remained at his side, her head resting on his chest. She turned in his arms and looked at him, placed a hand on his cheek and whispered. “Are you okay, Ned?”

Ned thought about the question, he wanted to say yes, he wanted to say no, he wanted to be honest, but he was terrified that if he was, that Ashara would leave, after all who would want to speak to someone as damaged as he was? Who would want him, the second son, the lesser, when they could be with Brandon? Ned had heard about his brother’s exploits from Lya, and well he was not surprised, Brandon had always been charming. He realised then that he had not answered Ashara’s question, he sighed. “I do not know.” He paused, he looked at her and then looked away. “I think there’s something wrong with me. There are days when I think that the whole world wants to eat me and spit me out. There are days that I think that I am fine and then something will happen and I will think that I am doomed to live like a hunted man. I see their faces at night, and during the day. They are there taunting me.”

“The people from Duskendale?” Ashara asked.

“Yes.” Ned said, his voice sounding odd to his own ears. “They stare at me and they tell me I caused their deaths.  That I took from them something that they can never get back. I saw the aftermath of Duskendale. I saw what happened and it is not like the songs. Nothing like the songs. I… I do not know how to do this.” He felt something running down his cheek and was surprised when he realised it was a tear, he had not cried since he was a child.

“Oh Ned…” Ashara began, she took a deep breath a hand in his. “You were not responsible for what happened. You did your duty to the King. Lord Darklyn brought this fate upon the people of Duskendale, not you.”

Ned nodded, he took a shuddering breath and asked. “But then why does it feel as if it is my fault? I tell myself every time I see their bodies, that I did my duty, that I was not responsible, but that does not stop it. I see their faces, the faces of the people I killed, I see their faces and I see the faces of my family. They haunt me and they taunt me. Why?”

“Because you are a good person,” Ashara said and Ned snorted. “Ned look at me.” So, he did. He saw fierceness in her eyes and a determination. “You are a good person Ned. You had to do something terrible because your King commanded it of you. That does not make you a bad person. You are feeling the hurt of what happened because you are a good person, you regret what needed to be done. But do not let it eat you, please Ned, do not do that to yourself. You are a good person; one thing does not make you a bad person.”

Ned looked at her, and he could feel the tears running down his face, breathing was hard. “Do you mean that?” he asked.

She nodded her head. “Yes. I never meant anything more than this!”

Before he knew what, he was doing he leaned forward and kissed her and she kissed him back. It was soft and chaste, then it became hard and animalistic. Eventually he had to pull back for air, he could feel the blush on his cheeks. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me.”

Ashara blushed, and gods she looked gorgeous. “No, it’s fine, I quite liked it.”

That surprised Ned. “You did?”

“I did.” Ashara replied smiling. “I’d quite like to kiss you again.”

Ned smiled. “So, would I.” He leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers and sighed when she kissed him back. Gods this was good, why was this so good? He felt her tongue press against his mouth and he opened to let her tongue in and gods this was good. He sighed again and then felt himself stiffen down below when she sighed. This time when they pulled apart they were both grinning.

Ashara kissed his nose and whispered. “I think we should spend more time together Ned.”

Ned felt his smile widen. “I would like that.” He leaned down and kissed her again, then took their hands and kissed them. She smiled. They spent however long staring at one another, and once again Ned felt as though he could get lost in her eyes. He wouldn’t mind that, he wouldn’t mind that at all.

The silence was broken when they heard a small cough. Together they turned-their hands still linked together, his heart soared at that!- and they saw Prince Rhaegar standing there. “Sorry to interrupt what I am sure was an important conversation, but, my lady Ashara, Lady Elia is looking for you.”

Ashara nodded. “Thank you, Your Royal Highness.” She let go of his hand and whispered. “I’ll see you soon.” Ned nodded and watched her walk passed the Prince and out back into the feast.

Ned was alone with the Prince, they were both silent for a long time and then the Prince spoke, his voice soft and musical. “Be careful, Eddard. Do not get involved in something that you cannot get out of.” The Prince turned and walked back into the feast, leaving Ned alone to ponder that and to fight off the memories of darkness with memories of Ashara’s lips against his and her smile.

 

 

 


	33. Wide Awake, Chasing Shadows: Rhaegar I

Fire burned across the sky, painting the world orange and yellow, the cries of the burning echoed high in the air. Somewhere in the distance there was a baby crying, and a woman was whimpering. A man threw himself into the fire to burn and screamed as the flames licked at him, hungrily consuming everything that was made of the man. Another man tried desperately to put out the flames, he was joined by countless others, all wearing red and black. They threw water onto the flames, but that did nothing. The flames grew larger, they descended on those who had tried to stop them. The flames latched onto clothes and onto the cups and the pans and to anything else they could get their claws on. Men screamed, throaty screams that showed just how young and old they were. Fire did not care. A golden chain lay on the ground, its owner was burned and dead, a charred mess. A crown rested on the table, having survived the inferno without much cause for concern, its owner however was staring at the flames, his hands on the eggs. The owner of the crown stared ahead, his voice was husky and broken. “This was not supposed to happen. This was not how this was to end. The dragons were not supposed to kill us.” The man was consumed, but he did not scream, he remained where he was, staring ahead as his skin peeled off him.  A woman came into view, her skin was burned and broken, and there she was holding the hand of the owner of the crown, weeping tears of blood. Another woman and man were limping out of the fire accompanied by white cloaks. They stopped and watched the burning palace. “You are King now. You must act quickly.” Someone said. The palace creaked and groaned and then it was gone, reduced to ash.

Rhaegar blinked. He looked around the broken ruins and sighed. “You flew too close to the sun.” He whispered to the ghost of his great-grandfather, a man who had tried to make the Kingdom a better place for all and had been thwarted at almost every point by those too narrowminded to ever understand what he wanted. Rhaegar moved from his spot and walked around the deserted hall, this would’ve been where his father and mother would’ve played as children, running through the hallway and causing all kinds of mischief. Neither of them spoke about that time though. He had tried to ask them when he was a child and did not quite understand why they never spoke about this place. They had give him no solid responses and had instead brushed him off with other things, empty platitudes that had denied common sense. Rhaegar sighed again, his hands coming out to touch the blackened corpse of a once great palace. “What happened here? Why did it end in fire?” He mused aloud. That had been something he had never quite been able to understand. How had the fire started, how had it grown to the point that it had consumed the entire palace and taken so many lives? Rhaegar stopped before a place where there was one thing untouched by the fire of so long ago. He picked it up and stared at a painting of his mother as a child. He smiled sadly.

His mother couldn’t have been much older than Daenerys was now. Her hair was tied in a slight braid and her cheeks were rosy, she had been laughing as this portrait had been painted. What had she been laughing at, he wondered. Would she remember if he asked her or would she merely brush it off and return to other work?  There was so much he wanted to understand, but couldn’t. Those who had been here when it had happened were scarred by the events that had unfolded. His uncle Steffon did not come to court, had not spoken to Father or Mother since the earliest days of Father’s reign. Rhaegar felt a hand touch his elbow and he turned to see his wife looking at him concerned. Rhaegar smiled and showed her their mother’s portrait. “How old do you think she was here?”

Shaena looked at the portrait and then replied. “About as old as Dany is now. Do you think this was done before or after Ser Bonnifer made that offer?”

Rhaegar grimaced slightly, he had heard about the offer from Ser Bonnifer and he had never approved of the man. Mother had admitted that she had been young and foolish to ever think that would work. “I think it might have been before. Look at how happy she looks. She’s laughing with her eyes.” And it was true. The only times Mother laughed like that that Rhaegar had seen was when he or one of his sisters said something funny or did something funny. Otherwise she was very quiet. Rhaegar handed the portrait to one of his squires and said. “I want this protected, we shall take it back with us to Dragonstone.”

Shaena said nothing at that, but then she took his hand and lead him away from that part of the wall. As they walked, Rhaegar could’ve sworn he heard children laughing. His great-grandfather had visited here many times as a young man, bringing his children with him, they had filled the corridors with laughter, when things were happier. Rhaegar shook his head to get rid of that thought, it was no good reminiscing about the past when there was so much potential in the future. They stopped before an old door, Rhaegar looked at it and then at his wife. He raised an eyebrow and she blushed. “This was where we first kissed, remember?”

Rhaegar smiled. “Of course.” He leaned forward and pressed a chaste kiss on his wife’s lips. He pulled back and asked. “How long do you wish to stay here?” it had been Shaena who had suggested they come here, he had not thought about coming for some time, but he had agreed when she had suggested it.

“Perhaps a few days. Just to get away from the monotony of court and Dragonstone.” Shaena replied, the other reason why she wanted to get away remained unsaid. She would not speak badly of Jon, but Rhaegar knew his wife did not like the man, and Rhaegar was beginning to think she was not wrong to.

He held her hand and looked at the door, remembering the stolen kisses and the whispered embraces and then he said. “I am sorry about Jon. I have spoken to him and he promises me he will not do what he did again.”

Shaena nodded in response. “I know he is your friend, but I am not sure whether he can be trusted. He evidently has feelings for you, that go beyond those of friendship. And he is the sort that would cause all kinds of trouble should he wish it. He already caused a scene with Myles.”

Rhaegar grimaced, the image of Jon nearly killing Myles over some imagined insult to Rhaegar’s person had been a poor vision for the court he wanted to present. He had disciplined both of them, but there was still the matter of Jon’s volatility to take into account. He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “What do you suggest I do? Jon and I have known each other since we were boys who were as green as grass. We are friends and we have fought together, those are not things I can just forget. He has many issues, but so do I. I think that there has to be some way we can get through to him and ensure he remains a valuable ally.”

Shaena sighed. “I think we can find a way, but it will not be pleasant, nor do I think that you would highly approve of it.”

Rhaegar looked at his wife, his beautiful wife, his smart wife and said. “I am willing to listen to what you suggest.”

Shaena nodded and then said. “I think we should speak of that at another time. Let us just enjoy being here.”

Rhaegar nodded and kept a hold of his wife’s hand as they walked through the blackened rooms and the charred corpse of what had once been a great palace. Rhaegar wondered not for the first what had caused King Aegon’s decision to have the ceremonies here. Had he truly thought that the place could bring the dragons back? Had he really wanted to bring the dragons back? Or was it as Maester Marwyn thought, that his great-grandfather had gone mad in his desire to bring about the kingdom he wanted to see and ensure that this was the way it would come about. Rhaegar looked at the walls, saw the blackness of them and imagined what it must have been like before the fire. He had seen paintings of the palace as it had been in its glory days. Walls lined with paintings and objects from across the seven kingdoms, and from across the narrow sea. Rooms filled with beds and tables and paintings, and chandeliers. The family had spared no expense on the palace, it was a great place to come and enjoy the time off away from the hustle and bustle of court. Rhaegar’s ancestor, King Maekar had made it that way when he had been sulking after not being named Hand of the King by his brother, the first King Aerys.

Subsequent generations had added to it, until it had rivalled the Rock and Highgarden for its beauty and its eloquence, Rhaegar wondered not for the first time whether this was one of the reasons why King Aegon had held the thing here. Would he have wanted to remove some of the grandeur when it was clear that it was so at odds with what he wanted for Westeros as a whole? Or was that something that the maesters had wanted to portray? He knew his father wanted to rebuild Summerhall at some point but the ghosts were still there haunting him and his mother. They stopped before what had once been the great hall and Rhaegar whispered. “This would’ve been where King Maekar received the news that his brother King Aerys had died.”

“How do you think he felt when he heard that his brother was dead?” Shaena asked.

 Rhaegar thought about it, remembering what his father had told him about how he himself had felt when he had heard that his own father had died and how he had felt when he’d been told his brother was dead. “I think he’d have been very torn over what to feel. Aerys was not the best of Kings and Bloodraven was growing slow in his old age.”

“That’s quite the change from how you normally describe him. I’d have thought you’d be sadder that Aerys had died and Maekar the more martial King had come to power.” Shaena whispered.

Rhaegar laughed then. “I might prefer books to fighting, but even I know that Maekar was the King the Seven Kingdoms needed at that time, not Aerys. Aerys would have been a great King for peace time, but during a time of war such as he experienced, he was woefully inept, and unable to handle the strains that were placed on him. His decision to let Bittersteel go during the Third Blackfyre rebellion instead of killing him show that.”

“And would Maekar have killed his own uncle?” Shaena asked.

Rhaegar had pondered that very same question many a time. Bloodraven and Prince Aerion had most definitely advocated killing Bittersteel, the man was the brains behind the Blackfyre operation and always had been, and there was no love lost between Maekar and Bittersteel, but kinslaying? Rhaegar was not sure, the accusations against him for the death of his beloved brother were still ringing in his ears. “I do not know. I think he would have done what needed to be done.”

“And what would you have done?” Shaena asked.

Rhaegar sighed. “I do not know. As I am now I would have killed him. He was a great threat to the realm and its peace. Letting him live was a mistake that continued to haunt the realm for forty years. But having been associated with him as they were, seeing him as family as they did. I do not know.”

Shaena nodded, then lead him further into the great hall. They saw the ruins of chairs and blackened remnants of times had when the sun shined brightly. “It looks so despairing here. It seems as if all hope has fled and there is nothing left to fight for.” Shaena said her voice sounding oddly small.

Rhaegar pulled her to him and kissed the top of her head. “Our great-grandfather was a man burdened by things that no man should ever be burdened with. A King does not have an easy task of it. And he had great dreams.”

“I don’t understand why the nobles were so against what he wanted to achieve.” Shaena replied. “What is so wrong with wanting to make sure that the members of the lower classes had food in their bellies and a roof over their head? That they had consistent work that was not being exploited for something that was inhumane? What was wrong with ensuring that nobles contributed their fair share of taxes and ensured that they did the necessary service? Why did they oppose it?”

Rhaegar sighed. “Because the nobles only ever looked out for themselves. At least some of them anyway. They were more concerned with keeping things the same than ensuring that the realm progressed. The Conqueror should have told them how things were going to be instead of leaving it as it had always been. When the status quo was threatened, they made things go even worse.”

“So they were blinded by their own short sightedness? Do they not realise what could happen if they continued to do this? The very system they are trying to protect will be their own downfall. It needs to change; it needs to adapt and the people at the bottom need to be given something to be reminded that they have something to fight for.” Shaena said passionately.

Rhaegar sighed into his wife’s hair. “I agree with you, Shaena, I really do. But I also think that the way Aegon went about it was not the right way. He should have implemented them slowly over several years. That way the fools who refused him and rejected him, would not have known what was changing. They do not look at minutiae, they only see the big things. What Aegon did was throw everything at them and make it seem like it was all one big thing. That frightened them.”

“Is that why those lords rebelled against Father then? Did they think that what he was trying to do was one big change too many?” Shaena asked.

Rhaegar thought over the question, trying to think over how to respond, as he did that they came to stand in the spot where the throne would’ve rested. He sighed and said. “I think that many people rebelled against Father because they did not like Lord Tywin.”

Shaena snorted. “That is an absolutely ridiculous reason to rebel. And frankly I am surprised Father did not decide to have them all executed at once for doing what they did. He has never exactly forgiven the Peakes for considering siding with Maelys the Monstrous now has he?”

Rhaegar laughed, he knew Father had been very close to ensuring that the entire Frey family was wiped off the face of the kingdom. “I think we have Lord Tywin to thank for that. He was the one who showed Father that there was a way to get what he wanted without executing everyone and everything.”

Shaena snorted again and Rhaegar smiled. “I think perhaps the time is coming when we shall need to be firmer with the houses of Westeros than they’ve had to experience for some time.” His wife turned in his arms and looked at him seriously. “Do you think there will be peaceful transition into the society you and Father want? Will the northmen do what you want them to do without war?”

Rhaegar inhaled, then exhaled. “I think that the north will come around. Lord Rickard knows what Father wants and he agrees with it completely. I think he will bring those lords who do not agree with him into line or he will destroy them. As for the others, they have been set an example by Frey, Bracken and Darklyn. They know what will happen should they try anything.”

Shaena nodded and then said. “You know, I noticed that Ashara was missing for a little while at the feast the other day. Do you know where she went?”

Rhaegar grinned seeing the smile on his wife’s face and looked at Arthur who was standing a few feet away, he pulled his wife close and leaned down to whisper. “She was with a boy, a friend of mine. I think they like each other.”

Shaena squealed, quite loudly into his ear. Arthur looked at him and he winked, Arthur grinned and looked the other way. “Oh that’s amazing!” Shaena whispered. “That’s really good. Who is he?”

Rhaegar laughed. “I don’t think I can say that.”

“And why is that?” his wife asked, he looked at her and saw her pouting, he kissed her and then pulled back.

“Because I gave him my word.” Rhaegar responded, and that was true in a way.

Shaena giggled. “Very well then. But I have something that you might want to keep a secret as well.”

“And what might that be?” Rhaegar asked.

Shaena took his hand and placed it on her stomach and whispered. “I’ve not had my moonblood for three moons.”

Rhaegar heard the words and wasn’t quite sure of their significance and then it clicked, he looked at his wife and then at where his hand was, and then back at his wife. “You’re with child? You’re sure?”

Shaena nodded. “Yes.”

Rhaegar moved toward her and kissed her fiercely and whispered. “Now that is something I want to share with the world.”

 

 

 

 


	34. The Last Laughing Stag: Steffon

Aerys had always been a demanding man. Steffon remembered the times they had played games as children and Aerys had always wanted to be this hero or that hero. Steffon as the youngest had always been relegated to playing some side character, whilst Tywin as the oldest played the villain. For a time, he had not minded and it had been fun, he had felt included in a way that he had never known he had wanted, back in Storm’s End, where he was an only child of a family that was healing from wounds inflicted by the uncle he had so loved. Eventually they had grown up and their games had stopped, they remained close but Tywin had always had a sense of purpose and mission about him that Steffon and Aerys had lacked. It showed when he defied his father again and again, it showed when he put down the Reynes and the Tarbecks and it had showed since. Steffon was somewhat jealous of his friend, but he remembered Summerhall and his jealousy was tempered by something else.

Steffon could not remember why they had thought it a good idea to bring Tywin with them. If he remembered correctly, grandfather had wanted it to be a family only affair, and yet Tywin had been there, somewhere, somehow. He had been there in the distance listening as the prayers were said, as the fires were lit. Tywin had been there an odd look on his face when the fires had spread, when the words of treason had left someone’s lips. Steffon remembered the laughing and the crying. He remembered dragging his mother out of the fire, he remembered seeing his grandfather burning alive alongside grandmother. He had tried and tried to free them but someone had dragged him out of the palace before he could be of any use. Before he could burn and die as well.

He remembered what had happened after the fire. His uncle, King Jaehaerys had become King and there were heated words between the new King and Mother, something about something. There were whispered accusations and there were cries in the night. Mother had never gone to King’s Landing after that, Steffon remembered seeing Father comforting Mother after a particularly heated argument with the King and the Queen. Steffon had not understood it then, he was not entirely sure he understood it now. He had not thought to ask, he had never wanted to pry. He knew it was an open wound for Mother, speaking of the family that had abandoned her, speaking of the brothers who had put their own happiness before the good of the realm. And so he had let it lie, but he remembered Summerhall, and he remembered how Tywin had looked as the flames had grown higher, he remembered how the words he had spoken had not seemed like a man who was grieving. “The world turns and so it has turned.” That had never made sense to Steffon.

He had not had time to think about it though, for shortly after Summerhall came the Invasion of the Stepstones and the need for thinking. Father had died, and Steffon had held him in his arms as he had breathed his last. Fevered whisperings of something to do with a lady and a lake, about the growing peasant sense of being and other things that had made no sense. Maelys had been killed and Steffon had been confirmed as Lord of Storm’s End and Lord Paramount of the Stormlands. It was a burden he had not wanted. He had returned home and told his mother about Father’s death and held her as he cried. He had buried himself in his work, he had ignored everything else and he had worked to show the Stormlords that he was as much a Baratheon as he was a Targaryen. When Mother had fallen ill he had regretted that. Mother had been there for him when things had gotten so tough he had wanted to give up, she had given him counsel throughout his early years, then she had fallen ill and he had failed.

Steffon had spent more time courting Cassana, with his mother’s blessing, than with his mother. He had tried to hide from how scared he was, how terrified he was of losing his mother, of losing family, that he had buried himself in courting and doing the things that he would never have done. When Cassana accepted his proposal, he told Mother and she had smiled, and he had cried. She had looked so weak and broken. The wedding came and went, and Mother had stayed in bed throughout unable to move from where she lay. She died a day later. He had wept and then Cassana and he had truly come to know one another.

He felt her hand on his arm then and he blinked, pulled from the brink of memory. “Are you okay, my love?” his wife asked.

Steffon sighed. “I’m fine, just remembering.” He glanced at the letter before him and sighed again. “I suppose I will have to give him an answer in the affirmative. Aerys has never quite liked being rejected.” He remembered all too well what had happened to Alyssa Blackwood when she had rejected the King’s advances. Married off to a lech like Walder Frey.

“You do not have to answer immediately. You can give it time.” Cassana said.

Steffon shook his head. “It has already been two days since we got this letter. Aerys will want a response before the week is out. And looking through it, I cannot blame him. I have not been a good cousin; I have not ensured that his laws and his ways were being thoroughly enforced.”

“You have.” His wife protested. “You removed Lord Boiling’s head from his body for disobeying the order for the higher grain input. And you reminded Lord Caron about the need for strong walls. You are doing your duty to the King, my love.”

Steffon inhaled, then felt his shoulders loosen as he exhaled. “You don’t understand Cassana, this is not merely about doing what the King asks of any of his subjects.” He held up the piece of paper. “This right here is a request made between a man and his friend. A request to fulfil an old promise we all swore to one another long ago.” He closed his eyes remembering the day when the promise had been made, it had been raining, their hair had stuck to their heads. “It is about reminding me that there are enemies out there that need culling before they can come and cause the crown trouble. And for that I must do the thing I have never liked doing.”

Cassana and he had known one another since they were children, he did not need to finish his sentence for her to know what he meant. She took his hand and said. “Then I will come with you.”

Steffon looked at his wife and asked. “What about Stannis?” Their second son was four and ten namedays old, and a solemn lad, but he was smart, yet Steffon did not want to leave him alone like this, that would not be the right thing to do.

“He can come along with us as well. It would be necessary that he see how to act as a Lord. He will be Robert’s vassal when the time comes.” Cassana said, and though Steffon had his reservations about that, he nodded. His wife continued. “I know you do not like having to go out in force, Steffon, but reading through the letter, perhaps it is necessary. And we know that things are not all well on the marches.”

Steffon laughed. “That is true. I do not know how the King managed to do it, but somehow he has managed to antagonise Dondarrion and Swann. Two of the most loyal lords in the realm and they are complaining about his measures.” He paused thinking about the measures the King suggested. They were not bad suggestions and they would most definitely go a long way toward creating a more unified Kingdom, but Steffon worried that perhaps they might bring the sort of war that their grandfather had always had to fight. He looked at his wife and asked. “What do you think of the King’s plan? Do you think it will work?”

Cassana was silent for a moment, her brow scrunched up in thought, then she spoke. “I think that it has the chance of working. Some lords will no doubt oppose it. The short-sighted ones might do as Frey and Bracken did and rebel, but the others will give it a chance. I think that they will want to see what happens and what it involves exactly before they make any sort of proper decision on it all.”

Steffon nodded. “I agree. I worry though that the King might have these ambitious ideas, but he will not have the wherewithal to see it through to the very end.” He remembered a fevered discussion they’d had once after one too many cups of wine before Summerhall and he remembered what the King had said then, and he remembered what he had thought after Summerhall. He pushed the memory away.

“The King is not your grandfather, Steffon, he also has far more capable advisors around him than your grandfather did, that much is a surety.” Cassana replied.

Steffon thought about this for a moment and then nodded his acceptance. Deciding that there was another matter he wanted to discuss he said. “I have not heard back from Robert for nearly a moon now, that is in itself not unusual but Jon Arryn has not replied to my letters either and that is causing me some concern.”

His wife laughed. “How many letters have you written to Jon Arryn, Steffon? If it is nearly as many as I think you have written, then I am not surprised that he has not replied yet. He most likely has not had the chance to form a proper thought yet.”

Steffon blushed slightly. “I cannot help it if I am concerned. How could Robert have been so careless as to get into an argument and then a fight with another noble, and a Royce at that as well? And how has Jon Arryn allowed him the chance to get so loose I do not know. He was supposed to teach him discipline and pride not this nonsense.” Steffon had always seen Jon Arryn in a different light, the man had been old even when the War of the Ninepenny Kings had happened, and when he had suggested that Steffon send his firstborn to foster with him, Steffon had jumped at the chance. Perhaps that was a mistake now.

His wife ran her fingers across his hand soothingly. “You know what Robert is like, my love. I am sure that even if Jon Arryn had said something to Robert, Robert would’ve done the thing just because he had been told not to do it.”

Steffon hummed in agreement. “This is true. The more I think about it, the more I think that Robert has inherited more of the Laughing Storm than my father, or myself ever did. And that is not a good thing. The Laughing Storm might have been a great fighter, but he was an average lord and with what the King is planning the Stormlands cannot afford an average King.”

“There is still time, Steffon. Robert is only six and ten, you can still teach him, all you need to do is send a letter to Jon Arryn informing him that Robert will be returning home to the Stormlands for good. Robert might not thank you for it, but he will appreciate it in the long term.” Cassana said.

“I will do that.” Steffon replied, kissing his wife, he got up and made his way over to his solar, he wrote the letter and gave it to Maester Cressen and then followed the maester up to the maester’s turret and watched as the letter was attached to an owl and sent off. He hoped that this time the letter would get a response. Once that was done the rest of the day was spent preparing for their journey from Storm’s End. They’d need to venture to Blackhaven and ensure that everything was in place for that discussion. Stannis seemed more than happy to venture out with them, and so Steffon named Donnel Storm, his uncle Harbert’s son as castellan. Once all the arrangements were made they mounted their horses and rose out of the great walls of Storm’s End and toward the smaller castles of the Stormlands.

It took them five days of hard riding before they reached Blackhaven, Lord Dondarrion greeted them all, as did Lord Swann and Lord Caron. They settled in and then they made their way to Lord Dondarrion’s solar for discussions about things that Steffon knew would be fraught with anger. Sure, enough the first thing Lord Dondarrion said when they sat down was filled with anger. “I am not sure why the King thinks that this is a good idea. It is an infringement upon ancient rights and liberties.”

Steffon sighed. “My lord, the King has ensured that ancient liberties will be protected. The charter that he passed three moons ago ensured that. This law now is merely a means to ensuring that the kingdom has better road networks and the means for funding it.”

Lord Dondarrion’s chin jutted out then. “The King can make all the charters he wants, what he is doing is plain for all to see. One would have thought he’d have learned from what happened to King Aegon the Fortunate. We do not want another Summerhall, the King must know that there are certain things that he cannot in good conscience remove. This law he is planning on introducing would do just that, and I will not stand for it.”

Lord Swann spoke then as well. “I agree with Lord Dondarrion. There are things that must be maintained and our rights to ensure that we have first call on the road we currently have is one of them. If we remove that right, what separates us from the animals?”

Steffon wondered briefly who Swann meant when he said animals, he decided he’d rather not ask. He took a sip of wine and replied. “I think that you are both taking this as an attack, when it was never meant as such. There are things that the King wants done to ensure that the Kingdoms are secure, to make sure that the Kingdoms become a Kingdom and I think that is for the good. For too long have the kingdoms been separate and disparate. We must unite and we must be better together.”

“And why should we unite? Who are we fighting? What does some Reachman know of the struggles of being in the Stormlands? What does some Dornish cur know of what it is like to be a Stormlander? What does some barbarian in the north know of the Seven?” Lord Dondarrion asked.

“How are they ever going to know unless we share our experiences with them? This attitude that we are somehow superior to others because of some shit we go through is ridiculous my lords. We are all sworn to the Iron Throne, we are all Westerosi. These tribal loyalties that are present will do nothing but harm us.” Steffon fumed, he felt Cassana put a hand on his arm to calm him, but his anger was growing.

“That is easy for you to say, my lord.” Lord Swann said. “You are cousin to the King; you are exempt from his plans. We are not.”

Steffon banged his hand on the table. “I might be the King’s cousin, but I also know my duty. You all swore a vow to me, and we all swore a vow to the King. The King wants to make the Seven Kingdoms a better place, a Kingdom not Seven. I think that he is right to want to achieve this and I think we would be fools to oppose him.”

There was silence for a moment and then Lord Dondarrion spoke. “So, you will not go to the King with our complaints?”

“You have presented them to me, I will think over it and make a choice.” Steffon replied.

“That is all we can ask.” Lord Swann said.

Steffon nodded, got up and ventured with his wife and son to their rooms. As they walked, Cassana spoke. “Something seems off about this. I am not sure what it could be, but there is most definitely something wrong here. They are angry one moment and then they are happy to oblige the next.”

“Perhaps they have seen sense. Though I doubt it. More likely they have realised that they will not get through to me and so are thinking of some other way to present their complaints.” Steffon replied, he opened the door and walked into the room.

Cassana and Stannis followed him in. “I agree, how long do you want to spend here?” his wife asked.

“I think we should leave tomorrow. I do not trust Dondarrion or Swann.” Steffon said.

His wife nodded and they began preparing for the meal that was to be served. The meal itself was fair, it was quiet, there was little discussion though Stannis seemed to get on well with Lord Swann’s eldest son and heir which made Steffon smile. There was no dancing, and there was no music, and eventually the meal ended. They retired to their rooms and slept. The next morning excuses were made and they departed. Steffon had the feeling that he would not be returning to Blackhaven for some time and he was not sure why he felt that way. But he put it to the back of his mind and mounted his horse and rode out, his wife and son at his side.

They were about a day’s ride from Blackhaven when there was a rustling and before Steffon knew what was happening the arrows were flying and the men around them were falling. Arrows and horses did not go well together, Steffon had learned that a long time ago, and today that lesson was reinforced many times over. They continued, picking up speed, but before they could make the clearing and make it to freedom, figures appeared before them. the figures from his nightmares. “You will go no further.” The figures said. He heard a scream.

Stannis was on the ground, burning through, his body covered in blood. Another arrow hit Cassana and she too fell. “I love you.” She whispered and then the arrows hit him and he saw the figure and he gasped.

“I knew it was you.” He whispered and the figure laughed.

“It was always me.”


	35. A Heady Homecoming: Ned VIII

****

The journey home had been a long and thought provoking one. They had left King’s Landing early in the morning some two weeks ago, to avoid the rush that would come travelling on the King’s Road. Along the way they had seen some very interesting sights, men fishing in the rivers with their hands, women clawing through rubbish looking for some good or the other. It seemed that the regents installed in Bracken lands weren’t doing their duty properly. That had brought a tinge of guilt to Ned, for some reason he could not quite explain he felt as though he was responsible, he knew what Ashara would say, but she was not here, she had remained in King’s Landing with the Princess. They had moved through the Riverlands quickly, they had briefly met Lord Hoster Tully on the road, and the man had been reasonably accommodating to them advising them on the best routes to take and the best ways to avoid troublesome meddling of this lord or that lord.

The more time they spent on the road, the more convinced Ned became that if there was ever a war in the kingdom again, the first conflict and the bloodiest conflicts would take place in the Riverlands. Whilst he had read about the turbulent history of the Riverlands, it was only when he was in the region that he truly understood just what it was that caused so much fighting to take place within the area. There were riches in resources and food and minerals here beyond compare. Really it worried Ned, he had a vague idea of what the King and Lord Tywin were trying to achieve, and he suspected that the first signs of unrest would be the Riverlands, if for no other reason than to ensure the lords could address their old grudges. Lord Hoster had some control over the region, but even he could not prevent all the old grudges and pains between the various lords. More would need to be done there, but what Ned did not know.

When they had crossed into the north proper, and the humidity of the swamps of the Neck had greeted him, Ned had felt relief and happiness, and a tinge of nervousness. The cranogmen had given them sanctuary for roughly two days, and there Ned had met a boy named Howland, heir to the lordship of Greywater Watch and a nice lad who talked of things that seemed at once terrifying and preposterous. He had dreams, Ned knew for the boy had told him once. Dreams of fire and of ice and of great things occurring in the south and beyond the wall. Of a three-eyed raven calling out to them all and of a being of great strength stirring beneath the shadows of fire. Ned did not understand the visions, or dreams, or whatever it was they were, and neither did Howland. They’d spend a fair bit of time reading through various books on the matter, but had found nothing. Though the library in the Howland’s home was not that impressive, so Ned had promised to do some reading when he was in Winterfell.

And here he was. Winterfell, home. The great towers were still standing tall and proud, the castle still looked as if it could come alive at any moment, and the heart tree remained intense and intimidating. Ned had been greeted by his father and siblings, Lord Rickard had nodded, Brandon had grunted, but Lya had thrown her arms around him and hugged him until he thought he might have difficulty breathing. She had grown, tall and beautiful in the years he had been away and she had remained quiet though. They had had a feast and drinks and all kinds of other talk. Brandon was a man grown now at six and ten, yet he did not say a word either, not about anything of value anyway, and that was something that made Ned sad. He wanted to ask his brother about his experiences in battle, whether he woke up as Ned did in the middle of the night, sweating and panting and screaming. Or whether he remained calm as Brax did. But Ned got the feeling such questions would be unwelcome.

Father had asked to see him in his solar and so there he was. The room still seemed monstrous, as if it had been built for a giant, not a mere man. Lord Rickard still filled the room, he was getting old, Ned realised as he looked at his father.  There were lines under his father’s eyes where previously there had been none, there was more than a little grey in the beard and in the brown hair, and his eyes seemed as though they were constantly fighting for either sleep or to remain awake. It was a worrying sight, and one Ned had to fight hard to keep from asking about. He did not think Lord Rickard would appreciate such a comment being made. Father had said nothing for a few moments and Ned wondered if he could be excused, he wanted to speak to Lya and to ask Benjen how he was getting on with his lessons, but as he was about to ask, Father spoke. “Your journey was safe I trust?”

“Yes, my lord.” Ned said formally. “We spent most of the time on the road, ensuring we made a quick pace through the King’s Road. We met Lord Hoster on the road as well, I think he was going to Seagard or somewhere else up in the northern Riverlands. He gave us some advice as to which roads and pathways to take, to avoid the toll near the Twins.”

Lord Rickard nodded and asked. “And did you avoid the Twins?”

“Yes my lord.” Ned replied. “We took the crossing near the fording of the Green Fork and the Neck. We met the cranogmen and they ensured we had sufficient supplies for the rest of the journey. I met Howland Reed, the heir to Greywater Watch, he was a very interesting fellow.”

“In what manner?” Lord Rickard inquired.

Ned thought about this, wondering how precisely he was supposed to give voice to what it was he wanted to say. He did not think his father was the sort of man who would believe in the visions or other things that Howland spoke of, in fact, Ned was quite convinced that if he told his father about them, Lord Rickard would order Howland arrested and thrown into a cell. That was not something Ned wanted, and so he simply said. “He had a lot of interesting things to say about history and about politics.”

Lord Rickard snorted. “The cranogmen always do.” There was a brief silence, Ned moved slightly on his chair to get into a better position. Lord Rickard spoke once more. “Now, enough of that. Tell me of your time in King’s Landing and the Rock. We did not truly get a chance to talk when we met at Harrenhal.”

Ned nodded, he thought over what he wanted to say, then when he had reached that decision he spoke. “Casterly Rock is a great place. It is filled with a great many hidden passageways and a great many other things beside. We once found a statue with a lion headed man carved in gold. And they have real life lions in the rock as well. There was one that was as big as an aurochs, and it was white!” that had been an experience all unto itself, especially as such lions were incredibly rare and always had been. “The people of the Rock are kind, they are always making sure that there is enough food, water and books for us all to use and they ensure that we are kept informed of news as it comes. Jaime and Cersei are very nice and good; they both went out of their way to make sure I felt welcomed. Lord Tywin is a kind man and one who has gone to great pains to make sure I have the books and tools I need for my reading. Lady Joanna was always there willing to listen and to talk as well.”

Ned looked at his father and saw an odd expression there. He wasn’t sure whether he had said the things his father wanted to hear, or not, but his father had asked him a question and so he had answered it. “And what about King’s Landing?” his father asked.

“King’s Landing is most definitely an experience Father. It is a place that is filled with so much. There are a lot of people, who all move around wanting your attention, trying to sell you wares of gold and silver, and clothes and food and water and wine and ale. There are those who talk about books and knowledge as if they were there themselves. There are those who speak in tongues that I don’t think even the citadel knows exists. The King and Queen are figures who reign over it all, their court is like something from a story. They have real people with real desires and wants. They know how to keep those people in line and they know how to ensure the best for their people. Prince Rhaegar has a vast library all of his own within the Red Keep, and the library of the Red Keep itself is something to behold. There are so many books there that I think you could spend several lifetimes trying to find everything you wanted.” He paused for breath and saw his father smiling, encouraged he continued. “The friends of the Prince are good people as well. Ser Arthur is one of the finest knights I have ever seen, and Ser Jon is one of the shrewdest young men I’ve ever seen as well, the things he says are something else to behold. Truly it is an enjoyable and enriching experience.”

Lord Rickard smiled, and Ned felt such pride flitter through him it was hard to believe it, why a smile from his father would make him feel this way he did not know. “So you are enjoying your time there?”

“Yes. Very much so.” Ned replied enthusiastically.

Lord Rickard smiled once more. “That is good, very good.” There was a pause and then Lord Rickard spoke. “You are spending a few days here, correct?” Ned nodded and his father continued. “Good then you can spend some time getting to know your brothers and sister, and you can spend time getting to know the other young heirs to the north. They shall be coming for your brother’s nameday celebration.”

Ned nodded, the thought of meeting northmen sent a tinge of nervousness through him. He was not sure how they would respond to him, and how he would respond to them. He was a Northman, he knew that, had gone to great pains to remind himself of that, but he was also something else. His years in the south had ensured that. “I look forward to it.” he replied half honestly.

There was a pause and then his father asked. “And how are you feeling, after Duskendale?”

Ned tensed slightly, the sounds of ghosts screaming, of women crying, of children dying, of men groaning, it all played before him, his hands tensed, and then he did as Ashara had suggested he do. He took a breath, and another, his hands relaxed and untensed and he said. “I… I am getting better, Father, thank you.”

Lord Rickard nodded and said. “Good, if you wish to speak to someone, you can always speak to me, you know that, don’t you?”

“Yes Father.” Ned said, though he doubted that Lord Rickard would be as understanding as Ashara had been.

“Good, you may go.” Lord Rickard said.

Ned stood up, bowed before his father, straightened and then walked out of the room. He walked through the corridors, an odd sensation of loss and relief floating through him. He spent some time trying to figure out why he felt that way when he came to Lya’s room, he knocked and entered when she said he could. He found Brandon and Benjen in her room already. “How was it?” Lya asked.

“Okay, he wanted to know how I found the Rock and the capital.” Ned said simply.

“And? How do you find them?” Lya asked excitedly.

Ned looked at Brandon before he spoke and saw that his older brother was glowering. Slightly unnerved by this, Ned spoke. “They’re both very interesting places and they have a lot to offer, the people there are kind and considerate and they are always willing to talk about the things I’ve read.”

“That’s good.” Lya said.

Ned nodded but before he could say anything else, Brandon spoke his tone sharp. “Do they require you to dress like some sort of nonce when you’re in the south? Or is that a choice you actively made?”

Ned looked at his brother, and then at himself. “I do not see what the problem is? I am dressed per the weather.”

Brandon snorted. “You are dressed like you are some sort of southern pansy having some north for some business or the other. You are dressed as though you have not seen snow before, you are dressed as though you fear the cold. Is that what you were taught in the south, Ned? How to fear the cold?”

Ned was stunned by this; he did not know what to say. “I…I…”

“And now he’s forgotten how to speak. Of course, what more can one expect from a southerner?” Brandon snarled, he stood up and said. “When you remember what it is to be a Northman, come and find me.” With that Ned’s older brother pushed passed him and stomped off to wherever.

Ned looked at Lya who sighed. “Ignore Brandon, he’s been acting like this the entire time he’s been here.” Ned raised an eyebrow, and Lya looked at Benjen and said. “Ben, why don’t you go and help Hal with those tasks you still have to do.”

“But Lya?!” Benjen protested, his protestations died when he saw the glare Lya gave him, Ned laughed as his little brother got up and scampered out of the room.

“That works a lot, then does it?” Ned asked.

Lya laughed. “Like you wouldn’t believe.”

Ned laughed alongside his sister for a moment, enjoying this moment of simplicity, he had missed this, he realised then. He had missed laughing and joking with Lya, he had missed making Benjen laugh. Perhaps he could extend his stay for a little while? He stopped laughing as he remembered Brandon’s expression and asked. “What’s wrong with Brandon, Lya?”

Lya sighed. “I am not sure. But he came back from the Rills and from Barrowton in a mood. And he’s been in one ever since. I think he and Barbrey had an argument about something or the other and now he’s trying to take that anger out on anyone and anything. He nearly beat Lawrence Crowfoot half to death the other day in the sparring yard.”

“They fought with live steel?” Ned exclaimed, he’d only had one taste of live steel and he’d quite liked it, as had Jaime.

“Yes. Father had to pull Brandon off Crowfoot himself. He was not happy.” Lya said, grimacing.

“Will Brandon be returning to Barrowton after his nameday celebration?” Ned asked, a thought coming to mind then.

Lya shrugged. “I do not know. I think that he might be, or he might not be. He and Father had a big argument about something or the other, the day before you came home, and that’s merely added to his bad mood.”

Ned nodded that could make sense, then he thought about what Brandon had said about his clothing choice, he looked down at himself, and saw the gold and the red and the grey and asked. “Lya, do I look ridiculous?”

“No.” his sister said immediately. Ned raised an eyebrow. “I mean you look different, sure. But different is not bad. Different is what the north needs, everyone knows that, especially Brandon. The north is dull, there is just grey and white here, and the odd speckling of blue, but nothing solid, nothing real. Nothing that would make anyone want to stand and trade and consider us a proper region. That needs to change.”

Ned was encouraged by his sister’s words, but there was still a trace of worry for him. “Will the other northern lords and their heirs find me ridiculous if I dress as I am now for Brandon’s nameday?”

“Even if they do, so what? You are a Stark, Ned, not an Umber and certainly not a Glover. You have the authority of Winterfell; you could wear a rag and the lords of the north would not say anything aloud. The north needs to change and adapt to the changes coming. Father has told us that often enough.” Lya said simply.

Ned nodded and then asked. “And how about you, Lya, how are you? What has been happening with you?”

His sister smiled. “I’m good Ned, and I am learning how to fight, Father finally caved and agreed to let me learn how to fight with a sword.” His sister sounded so excited that Ned could only smile, despite his misgivings. “And Father has begun looking for someone to betroth me to.”

Ned raised an eyebrow at this. “Oh? Who has he considered?”

Lya sighed. “Domeric Bolton, Robert Baratheon, Elbert Arryn, Willas Tyrell and Quentyn Martell.”

“All sensible options, Bolton would ensure Roose Bolton is properly loyal to Winterfell, whilst the other options bring with them the option of opening new relations and ensuring the openness that Father wants. What do you think of them?” Ned asked.

His sister was silent for a brief moment then she said. “I am not sure. I know Domeric, and I like him, he is nice and kind, but I don’t want to remain in the north. At the same time marrying someone I do not know and likely won’t meet until the day of my wedding is something that worries me as well.”

 Ned nodded, he could understand that. He thought about his sister’s words and then said. “If you want, when I am in King’s Landing I could observe the different lords and their heirs and write to you about them? At least that way you’d have some understanding of what they’re like?”

Lya smiled and nodded. “I’d love that Ned. Thank you.”

Ned smiled. “What else are brothers for?”


	36. Conversations Running Empty: Jaime VII

His nameday had come and gone, he was three and ten namedays old now, and that was something that constantly surprised and worried him. He was nearly a man grown, but not quite. The celebrations had been very memorable, he’d had a feast thrown for him on the King’s orders, and there had been minstrels, a tourney and dancing, it had been the best nameday he had ever had. He’d been given a jewel encrusted sword by his father, a lance made of pure gold by the King, a cape of red and gold by uncle Tygett, a dagger of rubies and emeralds by Prince Rhaegar, a cape of blue from Ned- that had made him smile and cry a little, his foster brother who seemed weighed down by the burdens of the world had remembered the game they had played as children, and how he had always been the man of hope- and Dany had gotten him a necklace, it was a simple thing, not as elaborate as some of the other gifts, but it had their images in it and it had made him smile. He wore it over his heart and had done since that day. He’d kissed her to say thank you, much later when everyone else had gone to sleep and they were wandering the gardens.

Jaime had seen Ned then, during their walk, Ned had been staring into the night sky, a faraway look in his eyes. Jaime had seen that look in his brother’s eyes maybe twice before and both times he’d woken up to hear Ned screaming somewhere far away. Recently Ned had been better, thanks to Lady Ashara. Jaime did not think they’d slept together, but she was definitely a comfort to his brother in a way nothing else was. And Lady Ashara had been away then, having to return to Starfall for a family emergency. Jaime had stopped and watched Ned for a moment, had heard him mutter something about ghosts and Brandon-Brandon was Ned’s older brother, Jaime knew that- and then his brother had gone back to the Red Keep. There had been screaming later that night, and Jaime had burst into Ned’s room to find his brother wide eyed and sweating. But someone had come and spoken to Ned, talked to him and assured him that he was safe that they were all safe and then he’d gone to sleep. They’d not spoken about it since then.

Jaime blinked, looked at his brother and saw that Ned was studiously looking at Lord Tywin. Jaime turned and looked at his father also. They were observing the man in action, as Lord of the Westerlands and Hand of the King. His face was serious, and the issues he was dealing with ranged between serious and mundane. Jaime listened intently. “My lord, there is an issue with the pipes near the bend of Hook Street and Sewer Street. They do not truly cover the flow of water as they should and there is leakage. I have mentioned this to His Majesty’s patrolmen before but nothing has been done. This problem has been going on for nearly two weeks now.”

Jaime wondered at that, he could’ve sworn that Lord Tywin had ordered men to go to that place and fix the problem. He looked at Father and could’ve sworn he saw a brief flicker of annoyance on his father’s face, but when he looked again, Lord Tywin’s face was blank and expressionless. “I will send men there to address the problem today.” Lord Tywin looked around and then found the man he was searching for. “Ser Garlan, take fifty plumbers and head to the bend and address this issue.” Lord Tywin then glanced at the man who had brought the complaint. “You will go with them, now.” The man bowed and then hurried off with Ser Garlan.

Another man appeared, this one was dressed in brown rags and his hair was deeply dishevelled. “My Lord Hand, I come to you seeking justice. I was travelling from The Inn of the Kneeling Man on my way to King’s Landing and I was robbed by vagrants. They said they were doing this on their lord’s orders, and when I asked them who their lord was, so I might go to him to seek justice, they told me that they did this in the name of the Father. I do not know what to do. They have robbed me and travelled to King’s Landing. I know this for I saw them at an inn where a friend of mine was staying. And they spoke about the cases they had done and the loot they had brought into the city. Please my lord, help me.”

Jaime straightened. This would be an interesting one to observe. Could the vagrants be men from the Sept of Baelor and the heart of the Faith? Lord Tywin said nothing for a moment and then said. “Septon Matthew, what is your take on this?”

Septon Matthew was a grossly fat man, who had a sweet smell about him that hid the rot that was his soul. And that was rotten to the core, everyone knew. He took bribes from officials and peasants a like, he did things with girls that no sane man should do. That was the rumour. But nothing had been proven. The Septon was the representative of the High Septon at court. His voice grated on Jaime’s nerves. “I believe that this man is misrepresenting what happened. No man can in good conscience claim to be robbing his fellow man in the name of the Seven.”

As expected, the man protested. “I know what I heard, my lord! These men told me they were doing this in the name of the Seven. I would not lie!”

“I think you are confused child, you have mistaken their blasphemy for truth and thus are confusing yourself and wasting the time of the court and the Hand.” Septon Matthew said.

Lord Tywin merely looked at the man in rags before he said. “There will be an enquiry into this. Septon Matthew you will lead it.”

“But my lord?” The Septon began, as murmurs filled the court.

“But nothing. We take all accusations seriously. I want this man found and brought for justice.” Lord Tywin said simply.

Jaime smiled then realising what had happened, his father was very clever, very clever. Septon Matthew bowed his head and fell silent. The man in rags bowed and was escorted out of the hall. The court fell silent once more and then a woman dressed in silver walked forward, she curtseyed before Father and Jaime noticed that his father had stiffened slightly. “My lord hand, I have come to seek redress for grievances.”

“What grievances would those be?” Lord Tywin asked, his voice calm though Jaime could see a line of tension forming and he wondered who this woman was that she could do this to his father.

The woman said nothing for a long moment, enough time passed that Jaime began wondering if the woman was actually playing with them, but then she said. “My lands have been marauded on by an old enemy of my house, and they are doing so without any address by my liege lord.”

Jaime perked up then, as did Ned, they both listened intently as Lord Tywin responded. “And what response has your liege lord actually given? I know what you are like my lady, there might be something more here.” Jaime nearly gasped, he had never heard his father speak so openly or so rudely to someone before, let alone a lady!

The woman laughed. “Oh he has made the usual blustering promises about doing this and that and the other, but he has done nothing. You know what Mace Tyrell is like he will say something and then  forget about it unless his wife or Mother remind him about it. I have no hope that he will address this issue and therefore I have come before the throne.”

“And what would you like the throne to do about this situation, as unpleasant as it is, if Lord Tyrell has said he will address it, as your liege lord he has the first port of call for this. Should the crown get involved we would be interfering in something that has been promised resolution by one of the great lords of the realm.” Lord Tywin said.

There were murmurs of assent then, and Jaime knew his father was playing to the crowd, many of the nobles in attendance were not completely onto the plan that the King and Father had hatched and some were desperate for retaining the old order. There was another pause then the woman laughed and replied. “Peake would more than likely accept such a thing, it would benefit him. But we know Peake is just as dangerous as his father and even more dangerous than his goodfather. He must be stopped now, for the good of the realm.”

Jaime heard someone snort near him, and he discreetly turned his head and saw that it was Lord Fossoway of the Red Apple Fossoways. The man did not seem like he cared about an issue that also affected him. Jaime remained silent, Father replied. “I see.” There was a pause, then another and then finally Father spoke again. “I shall send five hundred men led by my brother Ser Tygett Lannister to help resolve this issue. Ser Tygett will have the power of the crown behind him and as such will ensure that a solution is reached to this problem.”

“Thank you, my lord.” the lady said curtseying before she left the hall.

Lord Tywin watched her leave and then stood up and the herald called out. “That is the end of the meetings for today.” The lords and ladies filed out of the throne room one by one, talking and gossiping no doubt this little encounter would be the word of the city before long. Jaime wondered where the King was once more, but pushed that thought away as he walked with Ned behind Father. They were silent as they walked away from the throne room and to the Tower of the Hand, Jaime already had several observations he wanted to make about the events of today and he couldn’t wait to share them with Father. They entered the Tower of the Hand, walked up the steps and then settled themselves in Father’s solar.

There was a brief silence, then Father spoke, his voice soft and less imposing now. “So, what did you learn  today?”

“Septon Matthew is going to be facing an enquiry into his actions.” Jaime said at once, unable to hold back the relish in his voice at the thought of that scoundrel getting what he deserved.

Lord Tywin nodded. “And what of the man who brought the accusations against the Vagrants against the Faith?”

“He was one of your men, my lord.” Ned said. “He was told what to say and said it willingly. I suspect he has a grudge against Septon Matthew.”

“That wouldn’t surprise me, Septon Matthew has done things that have likely made him enemies with half the people of the Kingdom.” Jaime joked. His father smiled and then Jaime remembered something he had long thought. “Why did it take this before an enquiry could begin into Septon Matthew? The evidence of his wrong doings is plain for all to see.”

Lord Tywin did not answer, but Ned did. “Septon Matthew is a man of the cloth. And the men of the cloth protect their own fiercely. There would’ve needed to have been some sort of crisis for him to be investigated. And with him being so close to the High Septon that would have put the King in an awkward position. But now with this, the trap has been set.”

“Ah, I see.” Jaime said. Then he asked. “Who was that lady at the end, Father?”

His father sighed. “That was Lady Osgrey, our cousin.”

Jaime gasped. “I…wow!” he’d heard stories about the Osgreys and not all of them were pleasant. “Did she come here knowing that this was exactly what would happen?”

Father nodded, and Ned spoke up. “So, she wanted confirmation of the fact that Peake was someone the crown was interested in and she brought a ready-made conflict for the crown to address.”

Lord Tywin nodded once more, and Jaime finally understood that. “So, she wanted to make sure that there was something worth coming to King’s Landing for, before she made her approach, she more than likely did her work and reading and saw the signs. That’s very interesting.” And it was, it really was, but Jaime was also intrigued by something else that he had seen. “I thought the issue of the pipes had been addressed and fixed, why did that man come again?”

“Because he more than likely had something to do with the burst pipe.” Ned said.

Jaime looked at his brother and asked. “What do you mean? Why would do something to cause trouble with the pipe?”

“The pipe is in a very interesting location and as such, whoever ensures the pipe is broken can gain notoriety and clientele for whatever they want in that area. It is an issue that the crown has been trying to address since the reign of King Jaehaerys the Second.” Ned said.

“Indeed it is more than likely we shall need to burn the people out of their homes to ensure the pipe is not broken again.” Lord Tywin said.

Jaime sighed. “Why would they do something so foolish as to break the pipe? Surely they understand that this would happen?”

“These people are not always the brightest, the thought of making quick money often overrides their ability to think rationally.” Ned replied.

There was another silence, before Lord Tywin spoke. “Very well, you are both free to go.”

They both stood up and bowed, before straightening and walking out of the solar. As they walked down the steps, Ned said. “I shall be going to the practice yard. I’ve got some things I need to sort out. Enjoy your time with Dany.” Jaime didn’t ask how Ned knew he was spending time with his betrothed, his brother just seemed to know these things.

Instead he said. “Thanks.” They left the tower, Ned turned right for the practice yard and Jaime turned left, a few moments later he found himself standing in front of his betrothed. He smiled, bowed, she giggled and then he held out his arm and said. “Shall we, Princess?”

Dany took his arm and said. “Lead the way good Ser.” Jaime smiled and they started walking. Where they were going he did not know, nor did he really care, so long as Dany was with him, he was happy. As they walked Dany asked. “How was it seeing your father in his duty as Hand?”

“It was interesting. Someone claimed the pipe had broken down again and we think they might have done it themselves. Then there was this man who was robbed by men claiming to be doing it in the name of the Seven. That means we’ve got Septon Matthew right where we want him. And then Lady Osgrey appeared.” Jaime said. He knew that if this was anyone else he was talking to he’d get into a lot of trouble, but Dany knew how to keep a secret, and besides she was a Princess she was entitled to knowing what had happened.

“I will never understand why the people keep burning that pipe. It makes no sense to me. They are merely making things worse for themselves and their families. Surely no amount of money can be worth that danger?” Dany asked.

Jaime shrugged. “I do not know.” They walked in silence for a time after that, it was nice, they didn’t have to constantly talk to enjoy one another’s company, and that was something Jaime cherished.

As they turned a corner, Dany gasped and Jaime followed her gaze and saw the flowers were blooming, lilies if he remembered correctly, they were Dany’s favourite. He broke contact with his betrothed for a moment and moved forward, plucking a lily from the patch and handing it to her. “For you.” He said softly.

Dany smiled. “Thank you.” She held onto it and then linked her other arm with his, and they continued walking. “I heard something the other day.” Dany said.

“And what might that be?” Jaime asked, Dany always heard the finest pieces of gossip.

“Apparently Lady Rosby has been looking for a bride for her son, Edmund. He seems to have been sleeping with more and more ladies and servants and the Lady is worried he will impregnate one of them so she’s trying to find a bride for him before that happens.” Dany said.

Jaime laughed. “I am not surprised. The boy is handsome, but he is really quite slow. He didn’t know the answer to the riddle that Maester Marwyn likes asking and it’s one of the easiest riddles to answer.”

“It must be if you can answer it.” Dany teased.

“Haha.” Jaime replied. They kept walking and then something that he had been wanting to know for a time came out. “Dany, why did Prince Rhaegar ask me to be the godfather for his son?” Prince Rhaegar and Princess Shaena had recently celebrated the birth of their son named Aegon, and the Prince had come to Jaime and Ned asking them both to be godfathers.

Dany stopped and looked at him smiling softly. “Because he considers you both to be brothers to him and he wanted you to be people his son could turn to when he was older.”

“But why us and why not Ser Arthur or Ser Jon? They are his contemporaries and his friends as well.” Jaime said. “Not that I’m not honoured, just surprised.” He added hurriedly, fully aware of the presence of a Kingsguard knight behind them.

Dany took his hand in hers and said. “He sees you and Ned as the brothers he never had. He sees Arthur and Jon as brothers also, but he trusts you and Ned more than he does them. He likes you, and you are family, Jaime.”

Jaime nodded. “I guess so.” He looked up then and saw something dangling above their heads and then looked at Dany and raised an eyebrow and she nodded. He leaned in and pressed his lips to hers tentatively and smiled when she responded. He didn’t think that would ever get old.

 

 


	37. Darkness: Tywin VII

Tywin flicked through the pages of the book, the light from the candle was flickering on and off. His mind was beginning to wander, but he knew he had to find the right page and the passage, it was important. He saw the pages about the dragons and their deaths, he saw the pages about the rats and the hawks and the pigs and their deaths, he saw the pages about the fires of Dragonmont and the things that crawled out of the wood in Dragonstone, and he saw the pages about lies and truth within the heart of King’s Landing. He flicked through them with barely any interest, until he got to what he was looking for. In small bolded letters was the answer to his query.

_When the light flickers and the taxes are drawn to make improvements to the Kingdom, the nobles shall divide themselves. For there are two things the nobles hate more than they hate the peasantry. The first is paying more than they think they should. Nobility are a conceited lot, they believe themselves excluded from the toil of life and they feel that any attempt to make them realise that they are not is an assault on their ancient priveliges. The second is that when they are told that the taxes are used to improve the lot of their inferiors, they will murmur and mutter and treason shall be plotted._

_You must be prepared for this, dear reader. The power of the crown is too important; it cannot be shirked and reduced. You cannot do as others have done. You must make sure that the ground beneath your feet remains solid. Kill you if you must, maim if you must, but always remember what your objective is. Do not let the lightning and the swan tell you that you cannot do this. Do not let the horse and the weasel tell you what must be done. You hold the power, and you must ensure that it is kept within the crown’s hands._

_This is what I say to you. Do you what must be done to protect the crown, for when the crown fails, nothing but anarchy can come._

Tywin stopped reading, he took a breath and sighed. He had known that this would be hard reading, but seeing such wisdom from someone who had for a time been crippled with drink and dreams of things not yet to come, that was something else. He picked the book up and got up, and walked quickly out of the room, he made his way with quick strides to the King’s solar. He nodded to the two Kingsguard on duty and waited to be summoned inside, once that was done, he walked in, saw the King dressed in black and gold and Pycelle dressed in green, he nodded to both men, bowed before the King and placed the book on the table before him, before sitting down. The King looked at him and then at the book and raised an eyebrow. Tywin took a breath then spoke. “I have found the passage I was looking for.  You were right, Your Majesty, he had known of this.”

He opened the book to the relevant page and pushed the book toward the King. Tywin watched as the King read through the words, his eyes growing wider and wider as he read the words written down all those years ago. When the King was done reading, he slumped in his chair and said. “So, it seems he was right then.” There was a brief pause then the King asked. “Do we know for sure that Dondarrion and Swann were behind this?”

The description that came whenever he thought of the letter describing what had happened to Steffon and Cassana and their son flickered through his mind. “Steffon was coming from Blackhaven, I see no other person who it could have been. Furthermore, we both know that Dondarrion was getting quite vocal over the reforms you have planned, Your Majesty. Steffon was one of your most stringent supporters, it would not surprise me if Dondarrion had invited Steffon to Blackhaven as a means of trapping him.”

“To make such a move, to attack and kill one’s liege lord though? That is something that I cannot imagine anyone doing without great consideration of the consequences. Dondarrion has said nothing in the two years since it happened. He did not even try to prevent my men from searching his lands. If he had done so, we would never have found the trail.” The King said. Tywin nodded, that had been most fortuitous that they had found that trail two years ago, it had led them to another place which had all the signs of bandits being present. Dondarrion had denied all knowledge of its existence, but Tywin was not convinced he was being completely honest. The King however, had his own qualms. “Dondarrion is not the man who would so willingly flout such customs. Furthermore, if he is behind this, why was he so willing to allow us access to the trail? A guilty man would do whatever it took to hide such a thing.”

“Dondarrion is also a smart man, Sire.” Tywin replied. “He knew that if he had hidden that trail that things would’ve gotten more complicated for him. Having allowed us access to that trail, he can now control what findings we make and what the interpretations are of those findings. Which can be seen by the numerous rejections we have made as to whom the findings belong to.” There was a veritable list in his room that continued to grow.

“Lord Tywin is right, Sire.” Pycelle began. “Dondarrion is clever, and he had help from Lord Swann. Swann was always someone who caused trouble for King Aegon.”

“I know that, but Swann seems to have done nothing. He hasn’t even replied to Dondarrion.” The King replied. They’d been keeping a close watch on Dondarrion and Swann for two years, ever since Caron had spoken to them about the meeting, and so far, Dondarrion’s correspondence had been coded and mundane, but no response from Swann.

“Perhaps he knows he’s being watched.” Tywin suggested.

The King seemed to consider this, his eyes were alight with information or some such thing, and Pycelle seemed to be doddering off, though Tywin knew that was an act. “I think we should increase the watch on Swann. I have a feeling that man is more dangerous to us than Dondarrion.”

“I agree, Your Majesty.” Tywin replied. “Dondarrion might well be the muscle behind this, but Swann was the brains and as such, he must be watched to ensure he does not do anything else to disrupt the natural order of things.”

“What about Lord Robert, Your Majesty?” Pycelle asked. “The young man has not responded to any of the letters sent to him asking him to come to court, nor has he responded to letters coming from his castellan asking about the changes he had requested before.”

Lord Tywin pursed his lips, he had met Robert Baratheon when the young man had come to swear fealty to the King as the new Lord of Storm’s End and Lord Paramount of the Stormlands. Tywin had seen a young man with black hair, blue eyes, a muscular frame and a booming laugh, who reminded him innately of what he had been told of the Laughing Storm. There was joy there, but also a deep anger. He did not seem impressive, but according to uncle Jason, neither had the Laughing Storm and he had still been dangerous. That this man had not replied to letters that Steffon would’ve replied to in an instant made him raise his eyebrows. “He is still in the Eyrie is he not?”

“Yes, my lord.” Pycelle said.

“He said he felt more comfortable learning everything he could from Jon Arryn than returning to Storm’s End when the wounds of grief were so fresh. It seems he has not even deigned to move himself away from the Eyrie since then.” The King replied a hint of disapproval in his voice.

“Is Ser Harbert still serving as castellan?” Tywin asked. He had liked Ser Harbert, and from what Steffon had described of his uncle, the man was a funny boar of a man, but with a heart of gold. He was old though, very old.

It was Pycelle who responded. “Yes. Though he is ailing, and I think he is trying to find someone to serve as replacement to him when he does finally go.” Pycelle held up another letter. “Robert Baratheon has not even answered that letter.”

At this the King snorted. “What did Jon Arryn teach the boy? I remember when the request was put in to allow Robert to foster in the Eyrie, I remember Steffon was not quite sure whether he was making the right move. Arryn was so much older than all of us. Do you remember Tywin?”

“I do, Sire.” Tywin replied. He had felt distinctly uncomfortable about how permanent a fixture Arryn had tried to make himself in their lives during the War of the Ninepenny Kings, especially Steffon’s after Lord Ormund had been killed. “Lord Arryn is a respected lord and a man who has served the crown with distinction. He has kept the peace between the mountain clans and the lords of the Vale for forty years, which is more than his father managed. I think perhaps this might simply be the fault of the boy.”

The King sighed. “I know, but I do not like it. The longer the boy spends in the Vale the less time he is spending getting to know his bannermen and for what we want to achieve that is not good. Pycelle, send another letter to the Vale, but this time frame it as a demand not a request. Maybe this boy will respond to a demand of his King’s.”

“Perhaps sending a letter to Jon Arryn would work as well. After all, from what we have gathered so far, it does seem as though the boy sees Arryn as a sort of father figure.” Tywin suggested and the thought made him quite sad.

“Yes, do that as well.” The King said, Pycelle scribbled away dutifully.

Once Pycelle had finished his scribbling, there was a moment’s silence and then Pycelle spoke. “I have received word from the Citadel.” Both Tywin and the King sat straighter waiting to hear the news. “Archmaester Marwyn and Archmaester Ebrose have approved the request I made. The Citadel will be supporting the crown’s efforts in reform.”

The King clapped his hands together. “Perfect, so The Great Archive shall finally be getting people to fill its halls and walk its alleyways.”

Tywin smiled, The Great Archive was the King’s new pet project a move to get the people of the citadel away from their stuffy rooms in Oldtown and into more luxurious quarters in King’s Landing near the Red Keep and the delights of the city proper. A way to control the information as well. “This is excellent news, Your Majesty. Shall I send word to the other members of the small council?”

“Send word to Varys and to Lord Chelstead no one else.” The King said, surprising Tywin. There was a brief pause, then the King elaborated. “I do not want anyone else knowing until such time as they are actually within the city. The master of coin can produce the necessary incentives and the master of whispers can ensure that we are kept up to date of any rumours or banditry.”

“A wise plan, Sire.” Tywin stated.

“Do we really need to include the eunuch, Your Majesty?” Pycelle asked, his collar suddenly becoming a point of interest for the maester.

Tywin rolled his eyes, and the King snorted. “I care not for the conversation or games you play Pycelle, Varys has ensured that we have had enough information to get solid ground to watch and investigate Dondarrion and Swann, he has ensured that your rivals in the citadel were removed immediately, and he has ensured that we know more about what is happening in Essos than Ser Jacaerys ever did. He is doing well at his duty.”

Pycelle fell silent then, and Tywin smiled behind his wine cup. A moment passed and then another, then the King said. “Very well, if that is everything you both can go. Enjoy the rest of the day.” They both got up and bowed, before walking out of the room, as they walked, Pycelle spoke.

“I am not sure I trust the Master of Whispers.”

“He is the Master of Whispers, if you trusted him, he would not be doing his job properly.” Tywin replied.

“There is something else though. Something more unsettling about him then there ever was about Ser Jacaerys. And I am not just saying that because he is a eunuch, there is definitely a stench about him that permeates through the ranks. That he has managed to garner such information networks as he has with only four years as Master of Whispers is worrying.” Pycelle said.

Tywin stopped near the door to the library, turned and looked at Pycelle. “He is the Master of Whispers if he had not built up his spy network he would not be in his current occupation.” With that the opened the door and walked into the room, thankfully, Pycelle decided not to bother him anymore. He kept walking down the corridor, through the alleyways created by the shelves of books, until he came to the right table, and there he found Tytos Brax and Jaime and Eddard. He nodded to the three boys, and sat down at the head of the table.

Immediately, Jaime asked. “Why are we meeting here, Father?” Jaime was growing, he reminded Tywin of Gerion at his age, there was a dash of mischief permanently in his eyes, and a desire to know more and everything. It was both encouraging and worrying.

“We are here because there are some things I need to discuss with you.” Tywin said, all three boys leaned forward and he continued. “I want to know how much you observe at court. Jaime, you begin.”

Jaime’s eyes widened, and the words came out rapidly. “I know that three days ago Lady Merryweather met with Lord Rykker and ensured that a vial of potion was given to him, he later gave it to his wife, and she suddenly got better. I remember seeing Ser Jon Connington glowering at Princess Shaena yesterday, and now he has been sent to Griffin’s Roost to ensure that his father does not forget to support the crown’s reform plans. I know that Prince Aegon has started walking and tottering about, so much so that the Kingsguard are having to ensure he doesn’t go anywhere else. And I know that the dragon skulls are being moved to another location because the Queen does not like staring at them all the time.”

Tywin was impressed, clearly spending time with Eddard was rubbing off on his son, that was good. “Tytos.”

The heir to the Brax family seemed completely taken aback by the question, but sure enough rattled out his responses. “The Queen is moving things around the court, trying to prepare for something, what I’m not sure, but she is definitely preparing for something. Lord Staunton is growing more concerned that his post is not secure, that you will replace him with someone else, and finally Prince Rhaegar is attending far more council meetings then he had done before.”

Tywin nodded, he was not surprised that Brax had gone for the more gossip worthy sorties, that was what the boy seemed obsessed with, but it was okay, for the time being that would do. Brax seemed to have matured slightly, and was now less likely to infringe on something then he had been before. He was due to be knighted on the morrow as well. Tywin looked at Eddard and asked. “Eddard?”

Eddard was a solemn lad; he was smart and very observant. Tywin was intrigued by what he would say. He was justified when the boy opened his mouth and spoke. “Lord Swann has begun creeping closer toward court, no doubt to put distance between himself and what happened to Lord Steffon and the Baratheons. Lord Robert will not come to visit King’s Landing despite the King’s requests. Lord Chelstead is considering using money and gold to bribe the boy to come to court, so that the King can stop pestering him about this. Finally, the Queen is convinced that there is more to Lord Arryn and Lord Robert than meets the eye and therefore she is preparing for all situations.”

All three boys had said things that were true and were observations he himself had made, but hearing Eddard say what he had said reminded him of just why the boy was so smart, and he felt a flicker of pride. He had done this; he had provided Eddard Stark with the tools to become smart and calculating and now the boy was ready for what was to come. He knew the boy’s father would agree with him. Jaime asked the question he had been waiting for. “Why did you want to know what we had observed, Father?”

Tywin took a breath, he looked around the library, then when he was happy that it was empty he said. “Because the next few moons are bound to be filled with all sorts of intrigue and chaos. I need to know that you have your wits about you and the ability to see properly. There are those in this world and at court who will try to disguise their true intentions behind flowery words. You need to be able to see and observe without being caught out. Always remember to really look at a person before making a judgement about them. Only then will you avoid falling into the trap that falls on others.”

“What trap is that, my lord?” Tytos Brax asked.

“The trap of complacency.” Eddard answered.

Tywin nodded. “Exactly. Complacency will kill you here, not anything else. Always be alert, and always question what you see. Nothing can be as it seems within the circle of tricks that is the capital. Remember that, and you will be fine and alive.”

 

 

 


	38. Knightly Vows: Ned IX

How Brax had gotten knighted before him, Ned would never be quite sure. It was not that Brax was bad with a sword or a lance, no he was quite proficient with both, it was more the fact that Ned was much better than him with a sword and with an axe and with almost any weapon, but that he also trained with his mind whereas Brax did not. Ned remembered the arrogance Brax had displayed after being knighted, he had remained in King’s Landing not because Lord Tywin had asked him to, but because he wanted to catch the attention of the King. He’d been knighted by Lord Tywin in the Sept of Rhaenys, a sept built many years ago out of the old Sept of Remembrance and Ned knew that angered the man, but what of it?

Ned was to be knighted today himself, as he dressed himself in simple brown shirt and brown trousers he found himself thinking on that fact. It was not unheard of for Northmen to be knighted, but they were mainly men who had grown up in White Harbour, or were Barrow Knights, there were very few northmen north of say the Rills who were knights. Ned already knew that people like Brandon did not think him a true northmen. In fact, Brandon and his friends had made that point quite clear at the feast to celebrate Brandon’s coming of age. Ned still bore the scars of that night, though he was quite sure Roger Ryswell was worse off, it had taken a lot for Ned not to kill the man, especially after some of the things he had said about Cersei and the south. Brandon had been pretty badly bruised as well, but Ned had not apologised for that at the time or afterwards, his brother was an arse.

Father had come for the ceremony, Ned was surprised by that, he had thought his father would not have wanted to spend that time with him. He had seemed quite disappointed at the time of Brandon’s nameday, more with Ned then with Brandon and that was something Ned had not been able to understand. He had not really spoken with Father much since his father had been here, but well, there was an entire feast for that. He ran a hand across his chin, he had shaved for today, and he was starting to miss his beard. He took a breath then opened the door. He had spent the past three days in the Great Sept of Baelor following the ritual, no food, only water and bread, no speaking at all.

That would all end today. He walked the corridor and then opened another door and came to the main hall where the statues of the Seven were. He saw them all gathered there, the King dressed in red and black, Lord Tywin dressed in red and gold and Father dressed grey and blue. He nodded to them and bowed before the King, before taking his position near the middle of the great hall, near all the seven. The High Septon spoke. “State your name.”

“I am Eddard of House Stark, son of Lord Rickard Stark and Lady Lyarra Stark. Second born son and ward of Lord Tywin Lannister and Lady Joanna Lannister. I come in peace and harmony.” Ned said, the words coming from memory he had spent hours remembering them.

“And do you promise to commit yourself to the ideals of knighthood regardless of how they might contradict other values and morals that might come before you?” The High Septon asked.

“I do.” Ned replied, he had always found that question odd, how could one decide what was more important, were the vows written by some fool who knew just how contradictory they could become.

“Do you promise to protect the weak and the feeble, do you promise to protect the young and the old, men and women, to the best of your ability.” The High Septon asked.

“I do.” Ned said, that much he would try at least.

“Do you hereby swear that from this day forth you are a knight and a knight above all else?” The High Septon asked.

“I do.” Ned replied, he knew what that meant and he was prepared to accept the ramifications if he went against that.

“What is your age?” The High Septon queried.

“I am Seven and Ten namedays old. I was born under the sign of the moon during the hour of the wolf, and I have had my first fight.” Ned said, remembering Duskendale and the screams that still haunted him.

“You know what comes from war and from suffering. You know what comes from killing and you know what comes from murder. Do you know what comes when you become a knight?” The High Septon said.

“Duty, a duty to protect the people, from themselves and from tyranny. Honour, to honour the Gods and make sure their works are carried out in peace and with good value. Family, to protect the family of the King and to ensure that the kingdoms are united behind the King in all that he does, and to make sure that my own family does as the King commands and for the good of the realm, for winter is coming.” Ned said reciting the vows as if he had written them himself.

There was the customary silence as the room digested what he had said and vowed, they were heavy vows, not to be taken lightly and Ned suspected that if Brandon were here he would be snorting with derision. Fuck him, Ned thought, his brother was an oaf, but he was not a complete one. The High Septon spoke and the silence was broken. “With the oil given by The Father to Hugor of the Hill, I anoint you.” Oil was placed on his head and his shoulders. “With water from the Mother, I anoint you.” Water was placed on his forehead. “With Fire from the Smith, I anoint you.” Ash was placed on his shoulders. “With flowers from the Maiden, I anoint you.” Flower petals were placed in his outstretched hands. “With light from the crone, I anoint you.” Light was flashed before him making him squint slightly. “With darkness from the stranger, I anoint you.” A black cloak was placed around his shoulders. The High Septon stepped back and the King walked forward, Blackfyre in his hands.

“With steel from the Warrior, I anoint you.” The King placed the sword on his shoulders one after the other and then said. “Remove the darkness.” Ned felt the black cloak removed from his shoulders. “Arise, Ser Eddard of the House Stark.” Ned stood then and kept the flowers in his hands, he bowed before the King, then straightened and walked to the feet of the seven and spread the petals, he then took a rose from one of the pages and placed it at the mound of roots and wood that symbolised the Old Gods.

“I become your humble servant and master.” Ned said to the gods. That done, he turned and received a huge cheer.

The King walked to him and said. “You are a man now, Ser, remember that.”

“Yes Your Majesty.” Ned replied.

Lord Tywin shook his hand and said. “Congratulations, a finer knight I have yet to see.”

“Thank you, my lord.” Ned said smiling.

Father then came to him and embraced him. “I am proud of you, son, very proud, your mother would be proud of you as well.” Ned did not know what to say to that, his throat was oddly clogged right then. Father moved back and said. “Come, there is much to discuss before the feast.” With that they walked out of the Great Sept, and as they stepped out a large crowd began cheering. Ned was taken aback by this and his father laughed. “Clearly you are quite popular here.”

Ned waved at the people and felt a smile break out on his face as they cheered even louder.  Then he walked to his horse and mounted it, he waved again and the people roared. He smiled. He spurred his horse forward and began the journey back to the Red Keep, as he did so, he asked his father. “How long are you staying for, Father?”

“A few days, there are a few things I need to sort out.” Lord Rickard replied.

Ned nodded and said nothing, he was not sure what else to say. He was happy his father was here, but at the same time he couldn’t help but remember how Lord Rickard had expressed more disappointment in him then he had at the fact that his heir had tried to beat his younger brother to death. They rode on in silence for a time, Ned occasionally waving to the odd peasant as they came close to see what was happening, he looked forward and saw the King speaking to Lord Tywin, and Jaime speaking to his betrothed.  They kept riding when Father spoke.

“I know that things have not been the same between us since Brandon’s little attempt, but I know that you were defending yourself and I spoke with Brandon he has told me he is sorry and that he won’t do it ever again.”

Ned kept silent as he thought over what Father had said, when he had processed it he asked. “Why has he not written to me to say this himself? How long did it take for him to admit he had done something wrong?”

Father laughed. “It took him a long time to admit that. And he tells me that he tried to write to you, but could not think of the words to say. It seems you severely damaged his pride and his feeling of standing amongst his friends. Needless to say, he has learned his lesson and is doing what he can to make it up to Lyanna and Benjen as well.”

Ned snorted, of course Brandon would take the easy way out. “I hope he is at least trying to learn how to be a lord now and not merely running off to go sleeping with Barbrey Ryswell.”

His father harrumphed. “She got married to Willam Dustin some time ago, and yes, he is doing more to understand how the north works. But he will need your help when the time comes.”

Ned raised an eyebrow. “Why would he need my help?” He remembered Brandon, he remembered the Brandon at that feast, confident, charming, smart, arrogant. He was everything Ned was not, and more. “Why would the heir need the help of the spare?”

Father sighed. “He needs your help because he does not always have the patience to do what needs to be done. The north is a big place Eddard; he needs someone who has the patience to go over the finite details of the realm. Not just the positive and negative.”

“I see.” Ned replied and then he asked. “When is the wedding taking place?” Brandon had been betrothed to Catelyn Stark for four years now, and Ned knew the murmurs around the court were that Hoster Tully was finally starting to want his daughter married, he might have had a hand in that.

“In the next few moons. I have not yet confirmed a date with Hoster, but it will be soon enough. And whilst I am here I shall be meeting with Lord Tyrell and Prince Doran to discuss potential marriages with Lyanna.” Father said.

Ned nodded, he had kept an eye on both boys since they’d come to court to serve as squires for the Prince of Dragonstone and he infinitely preferred Willas Tyrell, Quentyn Martell was much like his father an odd ball who thought the world owed him something. But of course he had told Lya this, but Father would not much care. “I think marrying her to Willas Tyrell brings more benefits. The Reach is by far the richest land out there and would bring a useful ally.”

Lord Rickard said nothing for they had arrived at the Red Keep, they dismounted and Ned made his way to his rooms, his old rooms in the Tower of the Hand, he wondered where he would stay now. He walked up the stairs, through the corridors, and across the bridge and then up the stairs again, and made it to the tower, he opened the door and walked through. His room was as it had always been, tidy, clean and with books stacked on the table and the bed. He got his clothes, changed into a blue doublet and shirt, and dark blue trousers before placing the Stark grey cloak on his shoulders. That done, he took a breath, and walked out and made his way to the throne room where the feast was to happen. As he arrived he saw Jaime talking animatedly with Princess Daenerys and he smiled, his foster brother truly was besotted with his Princess. The herald called them in by name and when his name was called out the people roared, it was a surprisingly intoxicating feeling. He was seated on the right of the King, as the guest of honour. The King stood up and said. “To Ser Eddard Stark, a new knight and a shining example of what we should all aspire to be.” The cheers went out and then the food was served.

As Ned tucked into dish after dish, he felt his mouth water at just how good the food was, truly he would not want to leave King’s Landing if it meant he would miss this food. The King was engrossed in conversation with his wife, and so Ned found himself speaking to Prince Rhaegar. “Tell me, Eddard, now you are knighted what do you plan on doing? Your time as a ward of Lord Tywin has officially ended. Do you wish to remain in King’s Landing, do you want to visit the Rock, or do you wish to return to Winterfell?”

If he were being honest with himself, Ned had not really thought about what he wanted to do once knighted, the mere thought that he was getting knighted had been enough to confound him for a few days. Still, that would not be the right thing to say to the crown prince and so instead he said. “I think I will stay here for some time and then perhaps venture northwards. I wish to see more of the Kingdom before I settle down.”

The Prince seemed to accept this for he said. “A wise decision. Do not chain yourself to any one thing before you have experienced more of life. There is a lot to see in the world, make sure you see at least some of it.” The Prince seemed sad, his eyes looked different then, but before Ned could say anything the music started, indicating that they’d be dancing soon enough. Ned found himself scowering the hall looking for someone, and the Prince must have caught on for he said. “I think you’ll find that she’s coming this way.”

Ned looked at where the Prince was looking and gasped slightly as he saw Ashara walking toward him, wearing a silver and violet dress, her hair done in a elaborate braid she looked absolutely stunning. His mouth was open, he knew it was, but he couldn’t seem to close it. He stood up and walked around the side of the table and bowed before asking. “Would you have this dance with me, my lady?”

Ashara smiled and Ned felt his heart speed up. “I would love to.”

She led him to the dance floor, and Ned felt as if they were the only two people there, as the music began, they held each other close and moved as one. “So, you are a knight now.” Ashara said. “Does this mean you will be competing in tourneys?”

Ned grimaced slightly, he did not like tourneys, he found them a frivolous waste, he understood why they were held, but that did not mean he had to like them or compete in them. “I am not sure.”

Ned saw Ashara pouting and he smiled. “That is a shame, who am I going to give my favour to now?”

Ned swallowed. “You would give your favour to me?”

“Why of course! Who else is worthy of receiving my favour?” Ashara replied.

Ned blushed slightly and said. “Then to receive such an honour, I would enter into the lists.”

Ashara smiled and leaned up to kiss his cheek, and to whisper in his ear. “Then I would be most happy to give you my favour, and to give you something else as well. Should you wish it.”

She came back to rest on the balls of her feet and the music slowed down, though they kept dancing. Ned swallowed. Ashara was beautiful, so very beautiful, and he was not, nowhere near as handsome as Brandon, he had little experience with women and well, he was not sure what to think. They continued dancing and as it seemed as though they would need to change partners, he replied. “I think I would like that.” Ashara smiled, kissed his cheek and then took up a position dancing with someone else. Ned did not know who he danced with, his mind was racing with all sorts of thoughts. He cared deeply for Ashara, he knew that none of the girls at court made him feel the way she did, and he wanted to be with her, but he was still not sure what she saw in him, he was terrified that something would go wrong, that this was a joke. He hoped it wasn’t he really did. His thoughts kept him preoccupied until the dancing became too much and he begged off to get some air.

He made his way to the open air and felt the air on his face, he inhaled and sighed. He opened his eyes and saw something odd, a hawk was chasing after a rat, but that didn’t make sense, there were no hawks in this part of King’s Landing, and the rats had all been killed. He watched as the hawk swooped up the rat, and did not eat it. Instead the hawk flew away, the rat still in its claws. He looked away and saw something odd, a masked figure watching him, a scar on its face, long hair, and sheepskin on its face, with fangs, he blinked and the figure was gone.

 

 


	39. Wedding Bells: Jaime VIII

All three of his father’s squires were now knights. That was something that Jaime found quite interesting and entertaining. Brax had been knighted almost seven moons ago, Ned had been knighted five moons ago, and now before his wedding, Jaime had been knighted. Just as the King had knighted Ned, he had knighted Jaime and here nobody had made any comments, for Jaime was to be the King’s son by law, and so they were welcoming him to the family. It had been a good experience, with Father watching, Mother watching, and his uncles all watching as well, only Tyrion had not been there, and Cersei had been making eyes at someone or the other, though Jaime was not sure who, nor did he really care. He had spent more time watching Dany, his betrothed had looked beautiful, and whenever she had looked at him and smiled, his breath had hitched. He could not believe he was actually going to be marrying her today. He had to blink and take another deep breath before he could look at himself in the mirror.

Jaime wore a red and gold doublet, the lion of Lannister prominent on his breast. He wore trousers that fit comfortably and weren’t to elaborate, he fiddled slightly with his collar and heard his mother tutting. “You look fine Jaime, truly, you do not need to fuss so much with the collar.”

Jaime grimaced slightly. “It’s uncomfortable though. Why do collars always have to be so uncomfortable.”

“It’s so that when you wear them all you can think about is ripping them off and making love to someone.” Ned japed.

Jaime snorted and he heard his mother chastise Ned, but there was no heat in her voice. Ever since Ned had been knighted he had become lighter, he seemed less burdened by the things of his past, and Jaime was happy. He stopped fiddling with his collar, and then turned to look at his mother and spread his arms out wide. “How do I look?”

“Very handsome. You look like a knight from a song.” Mother replied.

Jaime smiled and looked at Ned, raising an eyebrow. His foster brother smirked. “You look good, Jaime. I’m sure the Princess will swoon the moment she sees you.”

Mother swatted Ned again, and Jaime laughed. He fell silent when the door opened and Father walked in. Father looked smart in red and gold as always, but the badge of the Hand of the King was fixed as was his rod symbolising his place as head of House Lannister. Father looked at him once and then nodded. “You look smart, son. A true Lannister and a Prince of the realm. Are you ready?”

The question was more addressed to Mother and to Ned, so Jaime remained silent. “Yes, we’ll wait outside.” Mother said, linking her arm with Ned’s and walking outside.

Once they were outside, Jaime looked at his father and inhaled. Father spoke his voice soft. “Today is a very important day for you Jaime. You are going to become a man, and you are marrying someone who is very special. I trust you know what that means?”

Jaime nodded. “Yes Father, I know that I am representing the House of Lannister, and that all I do shall be reflected on the house. I also know that I love Dany, and that I will do all I can to make sure she has a good life with me.”

Father smiled. “I know you will.” There was a pause, then Lord Tywin continued. “I am proud of you son. I am proud of the man you are becoming, and of the man you already are.”

Jaime beamed, then fought hard to keep the smile from splitting off his face. He coughed slightly, and then said. “Is it time to go?”

“Yes, come, let us go. It would be rude to keep the Princess waiting.” Father said, and together they walked out of the room, and then out into the corridor, where Mother and Ned and everyone else joined them. They walked out into the courtyard which was filled with people, all of them looking at him, assessing him and sizing him up, then he got onto his horse. He took a deep breath and spurred his horse forward. They began the descent down the slope, another gate opened and they rode out of the Red Keep down Aegon’s High Hill, and as they did so, the people watched them go, some cheering, others watching in rapt silence. It was somewhat unnerving.

They got onto the main street, and continued, as they rode, people began shouting encouragement. “Good luck, Ser Jaime.” And “May the Gods be with you, Ser.” Jaime took heart from that, he knew that they would be spending a bit of time in King’s Landing after the wedding and then they would be returning to the Rock, so that he could get used to ruling there in Father’s absence. Briefly he wondered whether that meant Mother would be spending more time in King’s Landing, or whether she would remain at the Rock. He also wondered where Cersei would stay, briefly, Jaime wondered if he should ask that she remain at the Rock. Who knew what sort of trouble she could get into in King’s Landing with the sort of people who were present here? He also wondered what his brother Tyrion was like. He had not seen Tyrion since the boy had been a babe, would he like to read, or to fight? All of this was perhaps not what he should be thinking about before his marriage but it played through his head all the same.

The large roar that greeted him as they approached the Great Sept of Baelor drew him out of his mind though, and he smiled, waved a hand and then stopped. Dismounted and walked toward the Great Sept, there he was greeted by Ser Arthur Dayne of the Kingsguard who merely nodded and opened the doors for him. He walked through, and felt his breath hitch as it always did when he walked in here. The Great Sept of Baelor was a big place, an ode to the Seven and the Gods as a whole. Magnificent spirals, and towers, pillars of pure gold, it was something else. He made his way to the altar and stood, waiting. You could tell who was arriving at the Sept by how loudly the crowd roared, when Prince Rhaegar arrived the roof nearly fell off from how loudly the people cheered. Jaime’s heart quickened in pace after that, his bride to be was approaching. When she did, a hush settled on the room, and the doors opened and his breath hitched again. She looked stunning. Her face was covered by a veil, but her dress showed her figure, her curves and her womanly allure, and by gods, Jaime took a breath and watched as the King walked with her to the front of the altar. He stopped, and stepped back, Dany turned and faced him, she smiled.

The High Septon was a portly man, he had been the responsible for the downfall and execution of Septon Matthew for crimes against humanity, he was neither a puppet of the crown nor of the Most Devout, he just existed. His voice carried though. “Today we are gathered in this great building, built by the great King Baelor for the marriage of two souls blessed in the light of the Seven. I now ask, who comes before the Seven to make this most sacred of vows.”

The King spoke. “Daenerys of House Targaryen.”

“And who claims her?” The High Septon asked.

“Ser Jaime, of House Lannister.” Jaime said, making sure to keep his voice clear.

The High Septon nodded and then began the recitation of the Most Devout Hymn. “We are gathered here today for the marriage of Princess Daenerys Targaryen and Ser Jaime Lannister. In the name of the Father, we ask that this marriage be protected from the ills of the world, in the name of the Mother, we ask that this marriage be blessed with many children, in the name of the Warrior, we ask that this marriage be strong and loving, in the name of the Smith we ask that this marriage forge links between the Kingdom that bring everlasting peace, in the name of the Maiden we ask that these two children retain their innocence and do not stray from the true path. In the name of the Crone, we ask that they gain wisdom and spirit for the future. In the name of the Stranger we ask that they not be separated from one another until they are old and grey.”

“Amen.” Jaime and Dany said together.

“Now, it is my understanding that both of you have vows you would like to say?” The High Septon asked.

These vows were the traditional vows that newlyweds said to one another and Jaime knew them very well, yet he was suddenly very nervous. Dany spoke then. “We do.”

“Then proceed.” The High Septon said.

Dany looked at him and smiled, he smiled back, his heart fluttering slightly. He opened his mouth and the words thankfully came out. “I, Jaime of the House Lannister, do promise to look after you, to protect you, to love you, to listen and to share with you the concerns and worries and benefits of life, from this day to my last. I promise to always listen to your counsel, and to do my best to provide for you, and to ensure that no harm ever comes to you. On the Seven, I do swear.”

Dany spoke then. “I, Daenerys of House Targaryen, do promise to look after you, to protect you, to listen and love you, to share with you all the worldly concerns that a person can have. I promise to share with you the good and the bad, from this day to my last. I promise to listen to you, and to discuss with you all things that matter and those that don’t. On the Seven, I do swear.”

“Join hands.” The High Septon commanded.  Jaime and Dany linked their fingers together and looked into one another’s eyes. “The vows have been said, the Seven have observed them. If there is anyone here who thinks that these two should not be wed, let them speak now, or forever hold their peace.” There was a moment of silence, and for a brief moment, Jaime irrationally thought someone would actually get up and say that he and Dany should not marry, he would have to kill such a person. Then when no one got up, the thought passed and the High Septon said. “Now, in the light of the Seven, I bless you both. Let your union be fruitful and full of love.” The High Septon sprinkled water on them and then said. “You may now kiss.”

Jaime momentarily removed one of his hands from Dany’s and pulled the veil back, he moved forward at the same time Dany did, he cupped her head and pressed his lips to hers. He kissed her, and she kissed him and he very nearly sighed with how good it felt. Of course, they were not in private and so he had to pull back, albeit reluctantly. There were cheers when he did and he smiled, Dany smiled and their still linked hands tightened around one another. They moved down the altar, nodding to various people and smiling at others, Jaime saw the King smiling, how he had gotten to the end of the aisle before them, Jaime did not know, but when they came to him, they both bowed. “You are now family, Ser Jaime. Treat my daughter with love and respect.”

“I will, Sire.” Jaime replied. The King smiled and then moved to the side, allowing Jaime and Dany to leave the room and move out onto the steps. The crowd was waiting filled to the brim.

“I think there are a lot of people here.” Dany joked and he laughed. They waved with their free hands and the crowd roared and cheered, Jaime could’ve sworn he saw people crying. That was surreal.

He turned to his wife-that was a word he could get used to saying, he thought giddily- “Shall we?” He asked, nodding to the horses.

“Lead the way.” Dany said.

Together they walked to the horse, he got on first followed by Dany who wrapped her arms around his waist. Ser Jonothor Darry and gold cloaks and red cloaks took up position around them and they got moving. As they rode, Jaime took time to savour the moment. Dany was his wife now, and he was her husband. They were together for the rest of their lives. That thought should terrify him, but it excited him beyond end. He was married to his best friend. The journey back to the Red Keep was far shorter than the journey to the Great Sept. once they were in the Keep, Jaime and Dany dismounted, and then made their way over to their rooms, the last time they would not be in the same rooms after today. They got changed and then made their way over to the throne room.

Dany was dressed in a purple and gold dress, which brought out the colour of her eyes, and Jaime felt he could just drown in her eyes. She smiled at him and kissed his cheek. “You look handsome, husband.”

Jaime grinned. “And you look beautiful, wife.”

They sat down and the King spoke. “Today my daughter is married. She is marrying a good man, from a good family. This marriage symbolises the strength of the Targaryen and Lannister friendship. Let it continue for many years. I wish you both endless happiness.” The King raised his glass and they all did, the toast rang out and then they drank. Food was placed before them, and they ate.

The first course was shrimp from around the east mixed with salad and some form of string based dish from the far east. Jaime scoffed it down quickly, only then realising how hungry he truly was. Then there were the lamprey pies which he ate just as quickly. Dany, who was sat next to him laughed. “Hungry?” She asked.

“Starving.” Jaime replied through a mouthful of food.

Soon the first course was removed and before the second course was presented, the King stood up and said. “Presents were given in the morning, but now I feel that there should be another gift given to you both. You are my children now, and you are also Lord Tywin’s children, therefore consider this a gift presented by the both of us.” Two men entered carrying a chest, it looked heavy by the way they were straining. The King continued. “We had people searching high and low for this gift, for it was lost a long, long time ago, but now that it has been found it is fitting that it be given to you.” The King clapped his hands and the two men placed the box on the ground and undid the clasps, Jaime leaned forward and gasped. There in the box was a sword of the purest steel, with red and orange flittering through it. “I present you Brightroar.”  The two men came and presented the sword to the King, who then turned and presented it to Jaime.

Jaime took it one two hands and bowed. “Thank you, Your Majesty. I do not know what to say.”

“You need not say anything.” The King replied, he sat down and resumed eating.

Lord Tywin spoke then. “Jaime, give the sword to Ser Vylarr to keep safely for now.” Reluctantly, Jaime handed the sword over to the Captain of the Red Cloaks and he felt its loss. Dany linked her hand with his.

“That was something.” She whispered.

“Indeed it was.” Jaime replied. He was not sure whether he would get to wield the sword, or if as Head of the house, Father would. It did not matter right now. He turned back to his food and watched as chicken with the string from the far east and duck and rice were served.

As he ate, Jaime took the time to observe some of what was happening around him. Dany’s hand was still linked with his, and that felt nice, but there were other things happening. He saw Jon Connington, newly endowed with Lordship of Griffin’s Roost, following his father’s death, speaking with Oberyn Martell, their conversation seemed quite heated judging by the way Connington’s neck was straining. He saw Ser Baelor Hightower and his wife Lady Elia talking, with their heads pressed quite closely together. Lady Elia had given birth to two children, and seemed happy, very happy, there had been a rumour long ago that she was to marry Prince Rhaegar, but of course that had come to nothing. Jaime saw Cersei talking to someone with blonde hair and green eyes, he could’ve been a Lannister by how he looked and held himself. Jaime leaned over to Dany and asked. “That man that Cersei is talking to, who is he? Do you know?”

Dany stopped eating and followed his gaze. “That’s Elbert Arryn, heir to the Vale and Jon Arryn’s nephew. He came here to represent his uncle.”

Jaime nodded. “Interesting, I think this is the first time I’ve ever seen an Arryn. They don’t tend to leave the Vale, do they?”

“I don’t think so. I think it has to do with something that happened when Jon Arryn’s father was Lord of the Vale. From what I remember, Jasper Arryn wasn’t the nicest of men.” Dany said.

Jaime nodded, that wouldn’t surprise him. Ned had told him about some of the Arryns and they sounded like horrible people. He decided he didn’t want to think about them, he turned to ask Dany what she wanted to do tomorrow, but before he could, a voice shouted. “Time of the bedding!”

The shout went out, the King looked at his daughter who nodded, and then the King gave his consent and soon enough Jaime found himself being hoisted to his feet and onto the hands of several women he did not know. Various items of clothing were removed from his person along the way, until he was thrown into the room and found Dany there in just a shift. He ran a hand through his hair and said. “Hi.”

She smiled. “Hi.”

He moved toward her and whispered. “Well then wife, I guess we have something to do.”

She put her hands on his chest and said. “I guess we do husband.” They pressed their lips together, and he sighed with pleasure.

 

 


	40. Lament: Tywin VIII

Jaime and Princess Daenerys were doing a good job in the Rock, that was the impression that Tywin got as he read through the letters from Kevan and Gerion. They were meeting with the lords and ladies of the Westerlands and showing them that though they were young, they would not be fooled, as Lord Crakehall had learned to his regret. Tywin was very proud of the sharpness that Jaime had exhibited in that instance, he had been worried that his son would be too passive, but he had shown all the traits of a lion. Princess Daenerys had shown steel as well, giving Genna an earful about some missed payments and Tywin delighted in reading that, his sister could be too full of herself sometimes. All in all it seemed that they were doing a very good job of ensuring that the Rock continued to run smoothly. He was proud of them.

Tywin placed that letter back on the table and picked up another letter that had come from one of his sources in the Stormlands. He read through it and sighed. Another dead end. It had been three years since Steffon and Cassana and their son had been murdered in the Stormlands and since then there had been nothing more than dead leads and dead ends. Whoever had done the deed was still at large and though Dondarrion and Swann had been politically isolated neither man had cracked. It seemed there was someone they feared more than they feared the King’s justice and that was not good. He had spent a long time looking into their dealings and he had not been able to find anything that would suggest an outside power, but there must be something he was missing. His reports showed that Robert Baratheon remained in the Vale, that the aged castellan Harbert Baratheon was doing most of the ruling of the Stormlands. That was not good at all, the man was much unlike his father.

Tywin sighed, he placed this letter down, rubbed his eyes and pushed the chair back. It would do no good to obsess over this now, he needed to be more awake for the council meeting that was happening now. He stood up, stretched and then made his way to the door, and out of the room. Council meetings were happening at odd times now, the King had done it on his suggestion. They needed to ensure that if there was a spy for a potential enemy here, that they did not have enough time or chance to develop insight into how the court functioned. Still, this was doing a lot of harm to his sleeping pattern. He rubbed the stubble on his chin and walked down the hallways, down the steps, the rooms were quite quiet since his squires had been knighted. Brax was staying with the other knights in the Knight’s Quarter, drinking and whoring as he was wont to do. Eddard was touring the kingdoms, and Jaime was in the West. He felt an odd pang of loss then, his boys had grown up, and didn’t need him anymore. He pushed the thought away, he had a kingdom to help run, he could not do that by being sentimental.

Ser Barristan was on guard duty on the drawbridge tonight, Tywin nodded to the man, and made his way across the bridge, looking at the gold cloaks as they stood on guard as well. They were formidable. Ser Manly Stokeworth was a formidable man, a veteran of several campaigns and he knew more about fighting then anyone alive at present. Tywin walked under an archway and into the Red Keep proper, he walked up the steps, and then through the opened door, and took his seat in the council room. The eunuch was there, Pycelle was there, Chelstead was there, Staunton was there, Velaryon had been killed during a scuffle as he had made his way to flee to Driftmark some two weeks ago, the man had been laundering money, and as such there was no master of ships just now, that would be discussed during this meeting. They all stood as the King entered, Ser Gerold behind him. He sat down and gestured for them to sit as well.

The King looked at him and nodded, he took out the order for the meeting and started speaking. “The reforms to the taxation system have been well received. The great lords have proven more than happy to provide an extra fifth for the improvements to their correspondence methods. This has been bringing in more than three hundred thousand dragons to the treasury than previously thought.” Chelstead smiled pleased, that had been his idea. “As to the use of purveyance, currently, Lords Templeton, Brax and Whent have raised queries as to why it has been raised. I have responded to them stating that the royal court needs more horses and supplies for the ever-expanding household.” The Princess of Dragonstone was with child once more. “Furthermore, I have also explained that with there being dangers lurking out there, one can never be too sure when the fighting might be needed once more.”

“How have they reacted to that?” the King asked.

“Templeton and Whent have accepted it, but Brax continues to insist that unless there is a proper declaration of war, the use of purveyance is not right. I have had our best legal experts look through the legal codes and we have found nothing that supports his statement. He is more than likely using the old codes as they were during the time of Aegon the Dragon, I have written to him to ask him to present his evidence at the earliest possible moment.” Tywin responded, knowing Brax that could be anywhere between three to four moons from now. Tywin then looked at the letter and continued. “As to foreign affairs. The new Sealord of Braavos has written to the throne asking that we meet with his representatives as soon as possible to look toward negotiating a future settlement that improves on the current one.” Since their city had been reduced to near economic ruin the Braavosi had been far more compliant as of late.

“What this new Sealord stand for?” the King asked.

“Trego Montar, he wants lower tariffs on foreign trade, preferential treatment for Braavosi fleets, and he wants to strengthen Braavosi interests within Westeros and the northern Free Cities. He feels that Volantis and the Red God are a threat to the interests of all free people.” Tywin stated.

“And are they?” the King asked.

“Volantis wants nothing to do with Westeros other than to trade. Montar is rallying Braavosi because he wants to keep the court faction out of power. The court faction want to build up Braavosi war galleys once more and wage war on everyone.” Tywin responded.

The King snorted. “They’re not half ambitious, these former slaves.”

Tywin smiled, the King had never been a fan of the Braavosi, nor had he really liked their attitude toward a legitimate monarch, increasingly Tywin found himself agreeing with the King. “They seem to be considering various options. The First Sword wrote to me as well, expressing a desire for mutual benefit. He wants to see his niece, who is the Sealord’s daughter married to a Westerosi noble.”

The King leaned forward, as did the entire council. “Oh? Now that is something, did he say why?”

Tywin smiled. “I believe that the First Sword of Braavos has ambitions for the lordship of Braavos himself. The current Sealord might be smart, he might be brave, but he is not a war hero. And whatever the Braavosi might tell themselves and others they love a good war hero. They value them above all else. The Iron Bank values them above all else, for they bring with them more chance for loans and raising of profile for the bank. I believe the Sealord and his First Sword are soon to be at odds with one another, and the First Sword wants his niece away from the chaos.”

The King considered this for a moment. “I see.” Another pause, then he continued. “I think that having a tie to the First Sword would be beneficial, but we cannot give the girl to someone who might use the wealth that she would bring to cause more troubles. We are only just now seeing economic growth again after the troubles with Bracken and Frey. There must be solid recourse. I want a list of houses that could be suitable for the post before the next council meeting.” Tywin nodded and made a note of that.

Varys spoke then. “Your Majesty, if I might?” the King nodded. “I think that whilst the Braavosi situation is most certainly one that must be followed with close intent, I think we must focus more closely on those lords who have begun questioning the most ancient of practises.”

“You mean those lords who are protected by the very customs that they are currently questioning?” Lord Staunton asked.

“Those very same ones. We must figure out why they are questioning something that they benefit from. If there is a root cause for this, then it must be found and dealt with. A Lord Paramount was attacked and killed within his own lands, and the two lords who were there and most antagonistic toward him have provided all evidence to show that they were not responsible for his death. That case remains open and the longer it remains open the more dangerous these people, whoever they are become.” The eunuch said.

“How do you propose we address this issue then?” Lord Chelstead asked. “Raise taxes and we shall draw them right out into open rebellion at the risk of alienating the other lord who have until now been nothing but loyal. Wait for them to make a move and we shall be waiting for a very long time. Add in another ancient feudal right and we shall be looking at another legal dispute.”

There was silence for a moment, only a brief moment, but it was enough for Tywin to spot something odd about the eunuch, usually when there was silence his hands remained still, but not now, now they were tapping lightly on the table. Was he nervous? Was he angry? Tywin had not been able to figure out the eunuch yet, just as he had not been able to figure out Ser Jacaerys and it angered him. Eventually the eunuch replied. “I would suggest none of those things. Instead I would use the local rivalries present within the realm to nudge these people into the open. We got Bracken through using Blackwood, Frey incriminated himself through his issues with the way his house was viewed. All we need to do is find out who and what causes these lords to grow irate and use that. And they will do the rest of the work for us.”

“A simple solution that will need some work to ensure that it is not obvious that that is what we are doing.” Tywin said simply.

“Dondarrion and Swann are not natural allies.” The King said. “They will be at each other’s throats if we give them the chance of finding a contract that would bring trade beyond their normal two percent. Chelstead increase the contract to five percent. Let us see which of these fools actually bites first.”

“What of Brax, Your Majesty? He has been complaining for some time. The legal case he wants to argue might well take time to sort out, even if we are in the right.” Staunton asked.

The King looked at him and so Tywin spoke. “Leave Brax to me, the man has his weaknesses and I know how to exploit them. He will reveal everything he knows if anything before we next meet.” Tywin knew that to get to Brax, he would simply need to press the son, Tytos Brax was a knight, he was hard headed but he also hated his father, and that was something Tywin could use.

The King grinned at that. “Very well, enough for today. There is a play happening within the grounds that I’ve been meaning to see. This meeting is dismissed.” The King stood, and so they all stood, they bowed and waited for the King to leave before they all left the room. Tywin walked in front of the others, making his way through the passageways to the Tower of the Hand, Joanna and Cersei were dressed and waiting for him when he returned. He linked his arms with both and walked out and to the courtyard, where the play was set up.

“What’s this play about, Father?” Cersei asked, she was beautiful, and looked more and more like her mother as the days went by.

“I am not sure, though it is meant to be very good, it comes highly recommended by Lord Hoster.” Tywin replied, if he remembered correctly, the play had started off in the Riverlands, with its first showing in Riverrun.

The play began, Tywin watched with a little interest, he saw the dancers and mummers for what they were supposed to represent. The rebels who had dared to think themselves better than the King. They were fools who traipsed around in gold and silver, but wore crowns made of wood. One of the men cried out at one point. “I have come for a land, and I have come for aid, but I do not know where to seek either. I am blinded by greed, for lust and for freedom.” the man was killed by someone representing Blackwood. Tywin watched as his wife and daughter clapped along with the others, as they cheered and yelled with the others and smiled. This was nice, this was something he had not done enough of recently.

“Dancing through the streets, on red do I leave, crippled by the desire of revenge. Against a sovereign who has done me no wrong. I am bent for the virtues that must be called unto me. I am slashed before the altar of the Father, begging for forgiveness, I know not what I want from this life. But I know that the King cannot have it.” The character known as Orpheus cried out loud. As he drew a dagger and spit into the cup of wine.

“Why must you do this so?” A woman cried out. “Why must you break through the winds of change and ensure that the darkness comes crawling through the gaps in the world? To what end do you seek to destroy the natural order? Why must you cry for power when you have freedom already? Why must you seek to destroy that which needs no destruction?”

“The skies must change; the world must move. We cannot allow chaos to come forward. But the chaos of the King’s will must be stopped. I shall not allow my people to suffer needlessly. For vanity comes the fall.” Orpheus said.

“Then you shall doom us all to the pits of fire, and death. That is not a fate I want.” The woman replied.

“Then go, and leave, and never return.” Orpheus said.

The woman left and Orpheus spoke to the crowd. “We sit on turbulent times. The King demands reform, but the world is not ready. I know not what I must do, but I know something must be done. We must stop the King, before the world shakes under his ambition. We must do what we can to ensure proper regulation and checking of the King and ensure nothing changes too much.”

The lights dimmed and the stage changed, now the woman from before was talking to someone who looked oddly enough like Ser Jacaerys. “He wishes to make changes but knows not what to change. He is mad without reason and I fear for our safety.”

“Fear not, my lady. You have done your duty, and now we shall have your reward.” The lights went dark and the world changed. Orpheus came forth and his screams echoed throughout the courtyard. Another figure stepped forward.

“Death has claimed young Orpheus, making him into a man not remembered, but used as a warning to those who would stop progress led by the King.” The figure stepped back and another scene came forward.

As the scene started, a man came forward and whispered in Tywin’s ear. “My lord, I apologise, but there is someone waiting for you, at the Tower of the Hand. They claim to have urgent information regarding the death of Lord Steffon.”

Tywin was suspicious about this, it seemed almost too convenient and so he asked. “Did they say what specific information?”

“They said it involved Lord Caron.” The man whispered.

Tywin nodded, he had thought something on Caron would turn up eventually. The man had remained almost too silent. “Very well.” The man faded in the shadows, and Tywin whispered to Joanna. “I need to go, but I will return.” His wife nodded and he stood up and walked away from the courtyard, through the doorway and through the open gateway, up the steps to the tower, there a hooded man stood waiting for him. “What do you have?” He asked as they entered his solar. He poured two drinks and then turned to get some paper.

The man spoke softly. “The answer to the problem is in the riddle itself.”

Tywin took a sip of wine and asked. “Barth said that, but what does this have to do with what you are here to tell me.”

Tywin felt something clog his throat, a burning feeling, he clutched at his chest. “There is an answer in everything my lord.” the man said, his voice deeper and more recognisable. “Now the world must end with the darkness that has come.”

“Why?” he managed to stutter out.

The man fell and there stood someone he recognised. “You have done well Lord Tywin, the realm is ready and prepared, but for things to move forward you must not be here. I am afraid you part in this play is done.” Tywin slumped down in his chair, his chest burning, the world turned blurry, he heard as if from far away the man say. “Have no worry, your wife and children will be well looked after. I will make sure of it.”

“V….” he managed to say before he stopped.


	41. Bells: Ned X

****

Lord Tywin was dead. The raven had come to Winterfell late at night six nights ago, and Ned had read it. Written in Lady Joanna’s flowing script, it detailed how Lord Tywin had been found, and the likely cause for his death. Poison. The work of a coward or a very smart man or woman. Ned had not known how to feel, his foster father was dead, murdered, and now Jaime, his brother in all but name was Lord of the Westerlands. Ned had written letters to both Lady Joanna and Jaime offering his condolences and asking if there was anything that he could do to help. He knew what he wanted to do, he wanted to get revenge, but he knew not who had done the deed, and therefore could do nothing more than simply accept that this had happened. He had of course sent word to his little helps across King’s Landing and asked them to keep an eye on anything unusual and even the usual, for one could not be too careful. Grief had been buried when the Daynes had arrived.

Lord Allem Dayne, Lord of Starfall and Guardian of the Torentine had arrived at Winterfell early in the morning three days ago. To discuss trade and other things with Father, and he had brought his sister Ashara with him. Ned had been pleasantly surprised seeing Ashara, he had not thought she’d be with her brother, but he was happy all the same.  He knew of course that there were many things that they needed to say to one another and they hadn’t spent much time in one another’s presence since she’d been here. That was to change today, now that he’d been given permission by Allem for what he wanted to do. He felt a flutter of nervousness then but quickly pushed it down. Brandon was not here, indeed, the heir to Winterfell was touring the north, getting to know his future bannermen, and no doubt preparing for the war that was inevitably coming. That was good, Ned did not think he wanted Brandon to meet Ashara, more for what his brother would do than anything else. Their reunion had been strained, but at least they were talking to one another.

The clearing of a throat brought him back to the present. He looked at his father and bowed his head, fighting to keep a blush from appearing on his cheeks. “My apologies, Father.”

He raised his head and found Lord Rickard smiling. “It is perfectly fine, Eddard. I know you must be nervous with what you have planned for yourself and Lady Ashara. But there are things that we must discuss before I can allow you to go, you understand do you not?”

Ned nodded, he understood even if he did not want to really be here, he fought to keep the image of Ashara’s hair out of his mind. “I understand Father.”

Lord Rickard took a deep breath then spoke. “Good. There is much we must discuss. First and foremost, Lord Tywin is dead, as you know. How are you coping?”

Ned was not sure what to say, he had not thought that this would be the first thing his father asked him. Lord Rickard was not exactly known for being the most open about his emotions, though as Ned thought about it, his father had always asked him how he was feeling after Duskendale, so he supposed his initial judgement was harsher than it needed to be. He took a breath and then replied honestly. “I am angry, Father, and I am confused. I am angry because Lord Tywin is dead and that he was murdered and that Jaime and Cersei are without a Father. I am confused because I am not sure who could have done this deed, especially as the enemies of the crown have all been broken.”

“Lord Tywin was a powerful man, Eddard, powerful men always have enemies. Regardless of whether they themselves are powerful or not, the enemies will find ways to creep into the system and to take advantage of it, for their own nefarious means. Lord Tywin was poisoned, that suggests that someone within his household was either bought for or changed sides and slipped something into his drink.” Lord Rickard replied calm as always.

Ned nodded, that made sense, he did not know Lord Tywin’s household as well as he used to, having not been a member of it for some time. However, he did still have friends there. “I have sent word to some of the old guard there and have asked them to keep an eye out for anything suspicious within the household before things get out of hand.”

“That is good.” Lord Rickard replied. There was a brief pause, then Father spoke once more. “With Tywin dead, there will be those who will come to the forefront to try and pressure the King into repealing or stopping his reforms. I know the King though, and I know that the death of his oldest friend will only convince him to continue pursuing these reforms with added rigorousness That will make him a prime target for rebellion.”

“Is that why Brandon has begun touring the north?” Ned asked. “To prepare the lords for an upcoming war?”

“Yes.” Lord Rickard replied simply. “I do not know when the war will happen, but it will happen and it is best that we ensure that the lands of the north are prepared for it. If one considers the views of some of the lords within the north, we must take these steps.”

“You think they will oppose the cause of supporting the King?” Ned asked, he knew that some of the lords did not fully support the crown gaining more power, but actively disrupting things because of this, that did not make sense to him.

“I think that many of the lords are petty, they squabble like children and need a firm hand to rein them in most of the time. I think that with Tywin dead, the northern lords are going to push for things that we cannot give them, that we shall not give them. And I need Brandon to realise that.” Father stated.

Ned was about to ask his father what he meant, when it hit him. Shocked he exclaimed. “Surely they still do not think that independence is a possible likelihood?!”

His father sighed. “You would think they would’ve learned by now, but no, there are those who dream of independence. It is particularly true of those in the far reaches of the north. They dream of days when they could do whatever they wanted and it would take days for Winterfell to respond. They fear the growing communication links, and they fear the fact that the crown would take power away from them and their right to do as they please.”

Ned could see the Umbers and the Karstarks particularly chafing at that. But he had always wondered why his father had never seemed to chafe. “And that does not bother you? That the crown would try to take your power from you?”

Lord Rickard shook his head. “I have been Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North since I was but fourteen namedays old, Ned.  I have seen a great many things, and I have experienced a lot. The one thing I know for certain is that the Seven Kingdoms cannot continue as they currently are. This division by Kingdom and by region and by faith is nonsense.  It does more harm than good, and the fact that none of our enemies have used it to destroy us yet is a sign that they are foolish. But we cannot count on them being foolish forever, we must ensure that we are united. The King is doing what must be done to prevent regional, or religious or cultural differences from tearing us apart, and I for one agree with him.”

He thought over what his father said, he also thought over what he knew of Brandon and then it came to him. “You want to play on the fact that Brandon does not like people making demands of him to drive him away from the independence group, and toward the more rational side?”

“Yes. Brandon has spent a long time listening to Dustin and Ryswell flatter him with empty platitudes. They are snakes waiting in the grass, they will flatter him, convince him to crown himself if they can, and then when the time is right they will demand an arm and a leg from him so that they do not reveal everything about him. Brandon has been too open with his weaknesses and his strengths he has not shown enough restraint. This tour of the north will allow him to see that, and allow him to formulate what he wishes to do next.” Lord Rickard stated.

Ned could see the sense in what his father was saying, but at the same time, there was a nagging doubt in the back of his mind. This was Brandon they were talking about, hot headed, impulsive Brandon who had once cut a boy and nearly killed him because of a challenge. Ned took a breath, considered his next words carefully, then finally spoke. “What will you do if he comes back and is even more convinced of the point of view he held before he departed.”

As so often happened when it came to discussions of Brandon, Ned expected his father to say that Brandon would see sense and not remain stuck in some bygone era, instead, Ned was surprised when his father said. “Then I will teach him myself.”

Ned did not want to ask what that would mean, and so instead he asked. “With the Daynes here, what do you want to gain? What do you think they want?” he paused and then added. “Apart from the obvious.” He blushed slightly.

His father smiled. “Lord Allem is a smart man, he knows that Starfall’s minerals and the lumber and timber from the north are a good combination. He also knows that the King wishes to bring the two furthest kingdoms closer together, and so he is making the effort that Prince Doran is not. I believe he wants to ensure we remember who it was who came to the north first, before the chaos began.”

“So, he wants a seat at the table then?” Ned enquired. The minerals and natural resources that had been found in the north and were being extracted were worth far more than anything that Starfall could provide, but Ned suspected his father did not want to crowd out the market with their produce just yet. He thought of what Ashara had told him about her brother, and he knew then that Allem Dayne was also angling for something else. “He also wants to know where we stand on the legal codes being changed.” That was a big thing for Lord Allem, the man was, according to his sister a big person for legal codes and their wording, and with the King planning an overhaul of many of the legal codes that had stood since the time of Jaehaerys the Wise, Ned could see why.

Lord Rickard nodded. “Indeed. He wants to see what my view is. Given that the last time such a vast overhauling of the legal codes was planned Lord Bernard Stark vigorously objected and had to be reminded by dragons that it was the Targaryens who made the decisions now, not him, I can see why Lord Allem would be most curious as to what my view on this is.”

“And what is your view?” Ned asked, though he thought he already knew that answer.

“I believe it necessary. The Kingdoms are decaying and only a legal change the likes of which the King is planning can save it.” Father responded. Ned remained silent, contemplating his father’s answer and wondering whether Brandon had ever even spared this so much as a thought. His thoughts were interrupted when his father spoke once more. “But that is enough for now. Go, be with Lady Ashara, Eddard and do what you must.” Ned got up, bowed before his father and then turned and walked out of the solar, his heart beginning to quicken.

Ned walked through the hallway, trying desperately not to break and run, he knew what he needed to do, he knew where Ashara was going to be, he just needed to take a deep breath and make sure that this was all going to go okay. It wouldn’t go okay if he couldn’t speak properly. He continued walking, taking deep breaths as he did so, he walked down a flight of stairs, turned right, then left, then right again, before stopping at Ashara’s room. He took another breath then knocked. “Come in.” Came the response. He opened the door, and before he could speak, he felt his breath get knocked out of him by the force of the hug he was given. He looked down and smiled. Ashara looked up at him. “I was wondering when you were going to come and visit me.”

“I’m sorry it has taken so long.” Ned said formally. Gods, she was beautiful, how was he ever going to get the words out, what if she said no? He pushed those thoughts down and then asked. “Would you like to go for a walk with me?”

Ashara smiled, and he felt as if his heart might jump out of his throat. “I would love nothing more.”

Ned pulled back, and though he desperately missed the feeling of Ashara pressed against him, he comforted himself by taking her arm and linking it with his, they turned and walked out of the room. Ned found himself content to revel in the comfortable silence that fell between them. The hallways were warm, the springs the reason for that, and he wondered how Ashara found her room, he wanted to ask but wasn’t sure whether or not the words would come out right. He looked at her briefly, her hair was flowing down her back and her dress was golden. Ned felt his heart quicken again, before he knew what he was saying, the words were out of his mouth. “You look very beautiful.”

Ashara smiled. “Thank you, and you look very handsome.” Ned shrugged, he didn’t think he did, not compared to Brandon or to anyone else in Winterfell, he was too plain. What if she said no?

They kept walking and as they came to the outer yard, Ashara spoke, her voice questioning. “My room is quite warm at night, even though there was quite the chill on the air. Why is that?”

“There are hot springs located deep under ground that provide a lot of warmth to the castle. Ensuring that it is never too warm, or too cold.” Ned replied.

“Really?!” Ashara exclaimed.

“Really.” Ned replied grinning.

“How? How is that possible?” Ashara asked.

They kept walking, Ned could feel the crunch of snow underfoot, and felt his grin widening. “It was a special design that Brandon the Builder supposedly came up with. That is the legend at least.”

Ashara snorted, Ned looked at her and saw her raise an eyebrow. “And what does the master historian think?”

Ned blushed. “I think that Brandon Stark, or whoever it was that decided to build the man castle here, did so because the hot springs were already present and they thought it would make a good place for a resting way between the Moat and the far north.” Ashara looked at him and he elaborated. “Orignally, from what I’ve been able to find out, Moat Cailin was the seat of power for the Kings of Winter, they held it and used it to direct affairs. But as their land grew and they took in more kingdoms they needed a place where they could go to better manage things, and so Winterfell was built. The hot springs made it a more alluring prospect.”

They walked through the gates and out into the godswood, Ned knew the moment was approaching, if only he could figure out how to get the words out. Before he could say anything though, Ashara spoke. “I’d love to help you find out more about this. It sounds like it could be fascinating.”

Ned’s heart stuttered, could she mean that? Could this beautiful and smart woman really want to spend time with him perusing through dusty tomes and library shelves? It seemed too good to be true. “I…I…would love that as well.” He found himself saying, he had never meant anything more in his life.

They were before the heart tree, its blood red eyes staring out at them, Ned felt Ashara shiver and he pulled her closer to him, she leaned into his side and he heard her whisper. “What made you so interested in history, Ned?”

Ned thought about the question and then answered. “When I was a child, my mother used to read to me, she used to read stories about the long night, about the children, and about the kingdoms before and after the conquest. She always used to tell me that I should question everything and find out everything I wanted to know. And I always wanted to know more, so I used to spend hours in the library here, and at the Rock and at King’s Landing. I spent hours reading through all the books I could.”

He looked down and Ashara was gazing fondly at him, his heart felt as though it might burst. “I can see that. I would love to help you find out more.” She said again.

Before he knew what, he was doing, he spoke. “And I would love for you to help me. Ashara, I’ve never met anyone like you, you’ve accepted me for who I am, you’ve never compared me to my brother, nor to anyone else. You’ve put up with my ramblings about everything, and I love listening to you, and talking with you, I miss you when we’re not together, and I want to spend every waking moment with you.” He was on one knee, a ring in his hand. “I guess what I’m trying to say, is Ashara Dayne, will you marry me?”

There was a moment of silence, Ashara’s eyes were wide, his breathing sounded shallow to his own ears, but then she gasped and said. “Of course. Yes, of course I will, I love you.”

Ned smiled. “I love you too!” He put the ring on her finger and stood up and swept her into his arms and kissed her.

 

 


	42. For Whom The Bell Tolls: Rickard III

His second born son was married. There had been a small wedding at Winterfell a few moons ago. The families of both bride and groom had been there, and no one else. Rickard had not completely approved of that, he had thought that perhaps they should have a proper wedding, so as not to cast any doubt over it, but Eddard had insisted that it just be them and their families, and truly, his son had never looked so happy as he had done then, that Rickard had acquiesced. His son was a married man, and he looked happy, happier than Rickard had ever seen him before. That in itself was worth the inevitable grief that some of the lords might give him when they realised that they hadn’t been invited to the wedding and that there was on less Stark on offer now. That Eddard had married a southerner was something Rickard was happy about, they needed to further their trade links with the south, and they also needed some fresh blood in the family tree. The northern lords could complain all they wanted, they weren’t going to change this, and with what Rickard knew what needed to be done, there would be a few heiresses free in the north for Benjen to have his pick of soon enough.

Now there was the matter of his firstborn’s marriage. Rickard, Brandon, and Lyanna and some sixty of their retainers had come south to Riverrun for the marriage that was to be held in the Sept of Riverrun. The King had ordered that there be both a marriage in the style of the Faith and a marriage in the style of the Old Gods to satisfy both denominations. Rickard was more than happy to allow this, and so here they were. Brandon had returned from his journey around the north, not completely changed, but not completely the same as he had been before. There seemed to be a much greater understanding about the way things worked. There was less anger in his firstborn, and more contemplative thinking. That could only bode well for what was to come. Rickard had spent some time looking at his future gooddaughter, and he did not think Catelyn Tully would be anything like Barbrey Ryswell. Where Ryswell was a woman with vapid sensibilities who could say the odd smart thing, Catelyn Tully appeared to know more than she let on. That was all for the good as far as Rickard was concerned.

Rickard looked at his firstborn son then. Brandon was tall, taller than him by some way, he had the traditional brown hair and grey eyes of the Starks, but his eyes were filled with expression, like Lyarra’s had been. Brandon was far easier to smile than Rickard was, much like Lyarra. He was impulsive and hot headed, a trait no doubt inherited from the Wandering Wolf. But he had a good heart and he could be very understanding when he wanted to be. Rickard took a breath then spoke. “You know what comes next. You know that this marriage will bring benefits beyond count to our family, and to the north.”

“I know, Father.” Brandon replied.

“But more importantly, I want to know if you know what this will bring you?” Rickard asked.

For a moment, his son looked somewhat confused, and then he nodded. “I know that Catelyn is a smart girl, she knows more about the world than anyone else I’ve ever met beside Ned. I know that she knows how to manage the accounts and keep on top of things.” That last bit was said with some relish, that Rickard did not want to think about. “And I know that she is good of heart and kind. And I know she knows more about Winterfell than perhaps Barbrey ever could.”

Rickard nodded, at least his son was not completely empty of sense then. He knew that the boy had long harboured some desire to marry the Ryswell girl, but that would have allowed a snake into Winterfell, and Rickard was determined to prevent that. “Very well. You know what must happen after the ceremony?”

“Yes, and I know that we shall be having a ceremony in Winterfell once we are done here.” Brandon replied.

Rickard inclined his head and then asked. “You’ve managed to look around the place since being here, and you’ve met the various men who have come to court Lyanna, what do you make of them?”

At this Brandon pulled a face. “Most of them are foolish sops, who do not know the difference between steel and real steel. They are the type of people who would boast about taming a wolf, and failing to realise that Lyanna is actually rebelling against their control completely. I think out of all the men who have come here today, the only two I like are Brynden Blackwood and Elbert Arryn. Blackwood is a worshipper of the old gods and he has no trouble accepting the fact that Lya likes riding horses and doing things that are not traditionally womanly. Elbert seems as if he would be a good marriage because he is heir to the Vale and because he has sense.”

Rickard smiled. “Very well, I shall consider what you have had to say on this. For now though I shall let you finish getting ready.” He made to turn away, but before he could leave, his firstborn spoke.

“When this is done, what will happen to the rest of them?”

He did not need to ask to know who Brandon was on about. “They will be dealt with accordingly. They have broken the King’s peace and must be punished for it.” He saw his son’s shoulders slump, but then they straightened.

“Very well.” Came the response. Rickard nodded and walked out of the room.

He made his way to the Sept, Martyn Cassel walking behind him, as they walked, Rickard spoke. “What news has there been of our guests?”

“They are not talking, or at leas the main leaders are not talking. There is one who insists that the information he gave is completely true.” Cassel replied.

Rickard nodded. “Without the others talking we have no way of knowing for sure.” He continued walking and then arrived at the Sept, he nodded to those of his retainers who were present, Manderly, Mormont, Umber and Flint they had all come, Manderly looked as though he might be falling to his death under his own weight. Ryswell had not come though the little messengers he had sent in Ryder colours had made his point for him.

He stood where he was, on the left side of the altar, waiting, eventually Brandon appeared, wearing a cloak of Stark grey, the direwolf proud on his back. Rickard nodded at his son and then turned to look around the Sept. It was an old building, the signs of history written all across its walls, from the way the carvings of the Seven coming to life in the form of Hugor Hill were drawn, to the way the images of great scenes were done. There was history here, but there was something else, a definite sign that things were changing. The idols themselves were made from silver and gold, and black gems. The kind one might find on Dragonstone or Volantis. He found himself wondering how the Tullys had found such a thing, then the doors opened once more and he pushed the thoughts away.

Brandon gasped when his bride entered, and as he looked at her in her red and blue dress, her hair done up in an elaborate braid, Rickard could admit that she did look beautiful. Brandon was a very lucky man, he just hoped his firstborn son knew that. She came to stand on the right side of the altar, and his son smiled at her. Rickard nodded to Hoster and listened as the vows began. “We are gathered here today, to witness this most holy and sacred of unions. Today, two people will join themselves in body and spirit, and their union shall last for the rest of time. Who comes?”

“Lady Catelyn of House Tully. Who claims her?” Lord Hoster said.

“Brandon of House Stark.” Brandon said, clearly and confidently.

“Take hands.” The Septon commanded and Rickard watched as his son and Catelyn Tully did so. “By the power of the Seven, I do declare that this union is recognised by the Gods, and by His Majesty the King. I do declare that this union has the approval of the heads of the houses, and that they have granted permission for all to be here. If there is anyone who believes that these two should not marry, please speak now.” There was a moment silence, nobody said anything, Rickard had made sure the Ryders could not interfere. “Then let us continue.”

Brandon spoke first. “I, Brandon of House Stark, do solemnly swear to protect you, to love you, to confide in you, and to trust you, from this day to my last. I shall always be here for you, in both mind and spirit. I do swear this before the gods.”

Lady Catelyn spoke then. “I, Catelyn, of House Tully, do solemnly swear to love you, to confide in you, to protect you, and to trust you, from this day to my last. I shall always be here for you, in both mind and spirit. I do swear this before the gods.”

There was a brief pause and then the Septon spoke. “Now that the vows have been exchanged. Let us exchange the rings.” Rickard watched as Brandon took the ring from Jon Umber, and placed it on his betrothed’s finger and she did the same. The Septon smiled. “All is said and done. You may now kiss as husband and wife.” Rickard cheered with the others as his son and his gooddaughter kissed.  He watched as the newlyweds walked out of the Sept, and made their way over to the great hall for the feast.

Once they were out of the hall, he began to walk as well, and soon found Hoster Tully walking alongside him. “I trust those little messengers have been dealt with?” the Lord of Riverrun asked.

“They have indeed.” Rickard said simply. They might be family now, but that did not mean he would give Tully everything.

“Good, good.” Tully said, they continued in silence for a while, before coming to the hall, as the doors opened and the bride and groom entered, he spoke again. “They’ve captured three men who claim to have information about what happened to Lord Tywin.”

“And who might these men be?” Rickard asked, he was already aware of this, Ned’s men had told him about it some time ago.

“Men from the border regions. Bearing masks of that most deadly of trios. It seems they were under orders to spread news of Tywin Lannister’s tyranny and ensure that there was a bounty placed on his head.” Hoster murmured as they made their way over to the main table.

Rickard said nothing, neither did Hoster, the man got up and made a toast, they cheered as was appropriate then the food was served. Rickard tucked into the starter of duck rolls, savouring the taste, and making a note to ask the cook at Winterfell to make these dishes more often. He had some wine, and kept an eye on Brandon, his son seemed engaged in a conversation with his bride, so that was a relief. He turned back to his food, and then spoke to Hoster. “I think we shall be seeing more movement sooner rather than later.”

“Indeed, I agree. Elbert Arryn’s presence here is a clear sign that Jon Arryn has finally decided to partake in the affairs of the realm again. And that he has finally recognised that he will never have an heir of his own body.” Hoster stated simply.

“Have you considered offering Lysa for the boy?” Rickard asked.

Tully did not flush, but there was a movement in his person that suggested embarrassment. Rickard knew why that was, but said nothing, waiting for the man to speak. “I have considered it, yes.”

Silence fell between them again, Rickard decided that pushing this matter would not bring any noticeable benefit to him and therefore he was content to eat and drink. The duck was replaced by pork, spiced with herbs and garlic brought from the east, served with potatoes and salad. It was a delightful meal, added to with cheese and ham and bread. Rickard felt as though he’d never eaten so well in his life, and as he looked around the hall, he noticed that everyone seemed to be sharing in this thought process. More people were eating than were talking, always a sure sign that things were going well. As the second course was taken away, he found himself talking not to Hoster, but to the man’s brother, Ser Brynden, a man he had come to know quite well during the War of the Ninepenny Kings. “Tell me Ser, has Hoster not tried to marry you off again?”

The man chuckled. “He has tried, after Bethany there were numerous people he considered, but eventually he gave up. I think he has realised I am a better command than a political tool.”

Rickard remembered the arguments he had had with his cousins Brandon and Benjen over this exact thing and so found himself asking. “And that suits you? Remaining unwed?”

A strange look came over Ser Brynden. “It does. I prefer being an uncle to a father. I know how to command and how to fight, and I know how to be what my nieces and nephew need me to be, but I could not be a father. I do not have that temperament.”

Rickard nodded, that was a fair comment, he knew that was one his cousin Brandon had shared, despite being heir to the vast fortune that Artos Stark had left behind. They did not talk after that for the next course was served, this time it was roasted beef with servings of dumplings. A mouth watering dish, that duly got Rickard’s full attention, he ate with gusto, and as he glanced over at his son, he was pleased to see the boy full enraptured with what Lady Catelyn was saying. Rickard turned his eyes back to his own plate and continued eating, savouring the flavour and the taste. When he was done, he put his cutlery back onto the plate and took a sip of wine.

As the plates were cleared, Hoster spoke to him once more. “You know, I think there might be some sort of issue within the Vale.”

“What sort of issue?” Rickard asked.

“I think that Jon Arryn and his ward have been at loggerheads. From what I have heard Baratheon wants to remain in the Vale indefinitely, but Arryn has been pushing him to return to Storm’s End and actually start ruling, and with the King instituting these reforms, there is much impetus for him to do so.” Hoster replied.

“Indeed.” Rickard stated. “I have often found it odd how the boy never made a venture to Storm’s End even after his father and mother died. He made one journey to King’s Landing to swear fealty to the King and then returned to the Vale. I know he has done trips around the Stormlands, and nothing more. No true administrative rule or anything of the sort.”

“I think we might have a problem when he does finally return southwards. Too many odd things are mentioned about what happens in the Vale, for the King to ever be comfortable about it.” Hoster stated.

Rickard nodded, and then as desert was served, lost himself in the eating of that. Once that was done, the plate was taken away, and as the other dishes were taken away, and the guests began to settle down, Hoster spoke up. “My lords and ladies, the vows have been said, the food has been had, the drink has been consumed. I think it is time for our two newlyweds to proceed with the bedding. What do you say?”

A roar went up, and as lords and ladies began moving off their seats to help, there was more movement, he did not see it at first, for he saw only his son and gooddaughter being carried away, but as he made his way to retire, he found the doors barred. He heard a scream, he turned and he saw Lady Blackwood fall to the ground with a dagger through her throat. He heard another scream, and saw another lady fall. He made to move for the door, but a guard pushed him back. “What the devil are you doing?” He yelled.

“I’m sorry, my lord, but traitors are not allowed to leave here.” The guard replied.

“Traitors, what are you on about?” Rickard snarled, wishing he’d brought his sword with him.

“You betrayed the rightful King and the rightful way of life when you sided with Aerys and Aegon. You must suffer for that.” The guard replied, shoving Rickard back into the hall.

“Hoster, what is the meaning of this?” Rickard yelled, over the cacophony.

Hoster did not respond, for as Rickard turned he saw his friend staggering to the ground, knives beyond count buried into him. He heard a scream and a yell, and turned around again, he saw his son and his gooddaughter pushing back against the guards and the men who wore Tully sigils, but were really from another time. Rickard grabbed a knife from the table and advanced forward, a man came and he ducked and weaved, before burying the knife in the man’s throat. As the man fell, Rickard quickly snatched his sword. He advanced forward and cut down three men who came at him. Another man came and he cut him down as well. His heart hammered, his blood was pooling. Brandon fell, but got up again. Umber was cut down; Mormont was cut down. Manderly was cut down his chins bleeding. He got to his son. “Who are these people?” Brandon yelled, pulling Catelyn to him.

“Traitors.” Rickard replied, he gestured at a fallen soldier. “Grab his sword and defend yourself.”

His son did as he was told, and they advanced forward, men came and men fell, their swords became slick with blood, but there were more. How had they not seen this? How had they not realised something like this could happen? After Steffon? After Tywin? They should have been smarter, more prepared. He cut down another man, but took a deep blow to the chest. He fell to his knees, just in time to see Catelyn Tully get a sword through her stomach. He heard Brandon shout, he saw Brandon move, he saw five men approach his son, and he knew what would happen before it did. Brandon cut down one of the men, he killed another, and then the other three killed him, they buried their weapons in him, and pushed him down until the sword in his hand dropped, and he fell face down. Around him, the world broke, the ground swallowed him, and there suddenly was a man, a man he recognised. “You?!” he exclaimed.

The man laughed. “It was always me.” The man pressed something cold against him, and in one smooth motion, a river opened, Rickard closed his eyes and fell into Lyarra’s open embrace.


	43. Centre Of The Universe: Rhaegar II

The council room was filled with the members of the council, and the Kingsguard, since word had come of events at Riverrun and Lord Tywin’s murder, the King had decided that he would not be alone without the Kingsguard present. Currently four were in the room, one was protecting Mother, and two were protecting Shaena and the children. Rhaegar looked around the room, and noticed the way Merryweather, the new Hand of the King shifted and shook occasionally, he was not comfortable within this room, he had always been a bootlicker, Father had appointed him Hand to keep a family who had once been traitors, very close to the throne.

Lord Staunton spoke. “Both Dondarrion and Swann have confessed to planning and executing Lord Steffon and Lady Cassana and their son’s murders. They state that they felt Lord Steffon was standing in the way of them being able to achieve a fair and reasonable settlement. They feel Lord Steffon failed in his duty as Lord of Storm’s End and Lord Paramount of the Stormlands and that he was merely a Targaryen puppet. They felt removing him would do the region a world of good.”

Rhaegar felt a ripple of anger course through him then. Cousin Steffon had been a smart and caring man, he had brought peace to an often-turbulent region, and he had ruled fairly. He had not deserved to be murdered, nor had his wife. Lady Cassana was a sweet lady who provided fair judgement and wisdom. And cousin Stannis had been but a child. Father was silent, the grief that had haunted him since they had learned of cousin Steffon’s death was like a shroud around him now. Rhaegar spoke. “How long did it take for them to make this confession?”

“A week of intense questioning, my Prince. Originally they did not seem as if they were going to break their silence, but then they did. Both confessed at the same time and admitted the other’s role in helping bring them into this state of affairs.” Staunton replied.

“You say they confessed at once on the same time?” Rhaegar asked.

“Yes, Your Royal Highness.” Staunton said.

Rhaegar thought about this and then said. “When they were kept in their cells, what was their treatment like? Where they kept in good conditions, and only questioned with force, or were the conditions within the cells similar to how they were treated once they were questioned?” that was important, depending on how Staunton answered, the information Dondarrion and Swann gave could either be completely useful, or made redundant and they would walk free.

Father looked at Staunton, his violet eyes piercing. Staunton took a breath then spoke. “They were kept in fair conditions as befits their status as Lords of His Majesty’s realm. They were only treated roughly during questioning.”

Rhaegar nodded. “And what else did they have to say about why they decided to commit treason?”

Lord Staunton was silent a moment, his eyes scanned through his notes. “They believed that the King’s reforms were harmful to the kingdoms. They believed that the King was focused purely on achieving something that nobody else wanted. Lord Steffon was as Lord Paramount and the King’s cousin, supposed to exercise his influence to reduce the King’s plans, and in their minds as he was a devoted supporter of the crown’s, he had failed to fulfil his duty. They believed that there was a need to use bandits to take him out. They felt it would be fitting, considering how Lord Lyonel had died.”

Father exhaled, and Rhaegar closed his eyes momentarily. Lord Lyonel had been attacked by bandits on the orders of the Blackfyres and murdered, simply because the Blackfyres had believed his death would better serve to drive a wedge between the Stormlands and the crown, between Baratheon and Targaryen. It had not worked, though there had been countless deaths because of it. Rhaegar exhaled. “They are fools.  The reforms that the King is implementing are the reforms this kingdom is long overdue. They cannot be allowed to hold back progress for the sake of outdated ideals that have been shown to do more harm than good.”

Lord Staunton nodded, and Lord Chelstead, the master of coin spoke. “Your Royal Highness, Dondarrion and Swann are two of the most powerful lords within the Stormlands, and they are marcher lords, with old and proud traditions. They have been condemned through their own words, but what of their families? Will they be forced to suffer the same fates as well?”

Before Rhaegar could respond, Father spoke, his voice shook with anger. “The lords will be executed. Their wives also, the wives are always told what their husbands are going to do. The children will be sent to the Faith and the Wall, or they will be brought to foster here. They will never again see their homes. Crown appointed regents shall rule in Blackhaven and Stonehelm.”

Chelstead nodded. “Very well, Your Majesty.”

Varys spoke then. “Stonehelm and Blackhaven will be brought directly under the crown’s control. My little birds tell me that the people and the bannermen of Dondarrion and Swann did not approve of their lords’ actions, they did not approve of their stances and therefore are taking news of their imprisonment with great relief.”

“Good, the people should not suffer for the faults of their betters.” Rhaegar said, knowing how close that came to censure.

“I want Dondarrion and Swann executed today. Before the people of King’s Landing, send out the heralds to alert the people I want them all to see this.” The King said, his voice shaking with anger and the desire for revenge.

“Of course, Your Majesty.” Varys and Lord Staunton said.

The King nodded, and Rhaegar knew his father would take great pleasure in getting his revenge on those who had harmed and hurt his family. Varys spoke then. “Your Majesty, the man responsible for Lord Tywin’s death has also spoken up about why he did what he did.”

Rhaegar leaned forward, after a month of searching, the eunuch’s little birds had finally found the man. He had brown hair, and green eyes, he spoke with arrogance and a certainty that came from knowing his place in the world. Rhaegar was not sure whether to believe the eunuch, but they had a culprit. “And what did he say?”

“He stated that he did the deed through the use of viper’s venom, and that he did it as revenge for all the wrong, that Lord Tywin had inflicted on the realm.” The eunuch replied.

Rhaegar snorted. “What wrong had Lord Tywin inflicted on the realm? He helped His Majesty, the King bring peace to the realm for nearly twenty years. He ensured that the accounts were sorted and he helped bring Braavos down to its knees. He did nothing wrong.”

The eunuch nodded. “According to this man, Lord Tywin was helping break the natural order of things and that he needed to be removed to show the King the error of his ways. He was doing this for the King. Or so he claims.”

“A man bent on changing something that does not need changing. A man who committed the gravest of treasons for nothing more than the paranoia in his head.” Rhaegar said immediately, knowing that this man was full of shit, and that there was something else to it than the eunuch was letting onto.

“The man also claimed that there were those within the Westerlands who had been waiting for Lord Tywin to fall to take their revenge on his family. He cited the Farmans and other minor houses who Lord Tywin had brought into the fold following his father’s death with force or by means of persuasion. He stated that these lords and families were now going to pounce of Lord Jaime.” The eunuch stated.

Rhaegar inhaled sharply, Jaime was a smart lad, he was also a good fighter, but whether he could handle the combined might of the Farmans and whatever lackeys they managed to rally to their banner, Rhaegar did not know. “How true is this man’s claim?”

“It is based on a false premise, Your Royal Highness.” The eunuch replied.

“Explain.” Rhaegar demanded.

“When Lord Tywin became Lord of the West, there were those who outright despised the Lannisters and wished for nothing more than their downfall. They were terrified of what Lord Tywin would do. Over the years he established peace and the Westerlands prospered. The houses like the Farmans who might previously have wished harm on the Lannisters now wish nothing more than their continued success. The man who made these claims is nothing more than a madman who wishes for something he cannot have.” The eunuch replied.

The King said nothing and so Rhaegar looked at Pycelle and asked. “You have looked at this man, Pycelle, does he display signs of madness?”

Pycelle was slow to respond, an act he seemed to have perfected over the years, designed to throw people off what he actually meant and what he actually felt. Rhaegar glared at the man to get him to hurry up, now was not the time for his theatrics. Pycelle blushed and stated. “Having looked at the man and looked through his records and the way he speaks, I can confirm that the man is indeed mad, and that he does not have the capabilities for rational thinking. Removing him from the world would be best for everyone.”

“Then that is what shall happen.” the King stated. “I want him executed today as part of the same scene as that that is to happen to Swann and Dondarrion.”

“It shall happen as you command, Your Majesty.” Lord Staunton stated making a note of it on his paper.

Varys spoke then. “There has been another incident at Riverrun. At the wedding of Brandon Stark and Catelyn Tully, both the bride and groom were murdered alongside their fathers and several other guests including prominent northern and riverlander lords.”

Rhaegar gasped. “By the Seven, who would dare do such a thing?”

“There was general chaos, but gradually order was restored as the men who killed Lord Hoster and Lord Rickard were cut down and their leaders were captured. Ser Brynden lead the response to their efforts. From what reports I have received, it seems that the Brackens and the Freys were partially responsible for this. They placed their men in the livery of Riverrun and then acted. They sealed the doors of the great hall, and killed anyone who became aware of their plan. They came under the banner of friendship and fooled all. Ser Brynden managed to protect his nephew and niece, whilst Lyanna Stark escaped harm due to not being in the great hall at the time of the event itself. She was helping one of her friends.” The eunuch stated.

Rhaegar closed his eyes, this was disastrous, two lord paramounts had been killed at a wedding, by their own bannermen. The lords of the realm would be baying for blood and rightly so. “What else do you know?”

“I have had my men question those who were party to the assault who escaped the resulting slaughter. They speak of being paid by a man wearing a mask of a hawk, and they also claim that Elbert Arryn was seen riding away from Riverrun at great speed after the first course was served.” The eunuch replied.

Rhaegar looked at his father, whose eyes were wide and he saw that his father’s hands were beginning to shake a little. “A man wearing a mask of a hawk and Elbert Arryn, the heir to the Vale riding away from the wedding. This cannot be a coincidence.” There was a pause as the King’s brows scrunched together. “Send word to Riverrun and Winterfell, offer our condolences, and then send men out to the Twins and Stone Hedge. Tell them they are to kill whoever gets in their way at these places. I also want more solid information.”

“Yes Your Majesty.” Staunton and Pycelle and Varys said at the same time.

The eunuch spoke again. “There is also word that Lords Ryswell and Bolton are making moves to file formal complaints against Eddard Stark, stating he has not fulfilled his proper duty as caretaker in Winterfell. They wish to cite the old precedent of Corpus Ritualis for this.”

“Eddard Stark is married and has brought good fortune to the north, through the records of taxation. He has done his duty for the crown as well. I believe there is more to this than meets the eye.” Rhaegar said immediately.

“Where were Bolton and Ryswell when this wedding was happening?” the King asked.

“Securely in the north, Your Majesty. Lord Rickard did not deign to invite them south for his son’s wedding.” The eunuch replied.

“Then tell them to come to King’s Landing to formally launch a complaint, or they will not be taken seriously.” The King responded. The King then looked at Chelstead. “When was the last time the Vale and the Stormlands paid the interest on their taxes?”

Chelstead flicked through the books and sighed. “Two moons ago. I have sent repeated demands that they pay the interest, stating that all other kingdoms are doing so, yet they continue to refuse to do this. Letters have gone unanswered until this morning.” Chelstead picked up a letter and read aloud. “We shall not pay interest on taxes that have been raised without our consent. We shall not pay for a vanity project when it infringes on our natural rights as good and true people of the Seven Kingdoms. Until such time as the evil around the King is removed we shall not pay.”

“Who wrote that letter?” the King asked, his voice dangerously low.

“It came signed from the Vale, and contained the signatures of all the lords of the Vale and some of the Stormlords as well. Robert Baratheon’s signature is on it.” Chelstead said quietly.

The King took a deep breath, Rhaegar could imagine the rage that was boiling inside him, for it was the same rage that was simmering within him. How dare these fools try and go against their King, how dare they try and do anything that would harm the Kingdom instead of protect it and improve it. When the King spoke, his voice was low. “Send another letter, remind these lords that they hold their lands because I permit it. Remind them that should they not pay the interest, their lands and titles and incomes are forfeit, and they will be left to beg on the road. Remind them what will happen should they go against me. Should they refuse, they are traitors and will be treated as such.” Chelstead nodded and wrote that down. The King spoke once more. “This meeting is at an end.”

The King stood up and walked out of the room, accompanied by Ser Gerold and Ser Barristan. Rhaegar followed him shortly afterwards, accompanied by Ser Oswell and Ser Jonothor. He sent Jonothor off to protect the Queen and walked in silence with Oswell. They arrived at his rooms, and he embraced Shaena, and looked over at his children. “How are they?” He asked softly.

“Rhaenys is fine.” His wife said nodding to their little girl who was fast asleep in her crib. “But Aegon’s fever only gets worse.” She said nodding to their son who slept with his brow scrunched up. “Maester Colemore states that the fever is getting worse, that the fire is eating away at him. He is not sure what more can be done.” There was fear in her voice and Rhaegar felt his heart clench in pain, he did not know how to make it better. “How did the meeting go?” His wife asked.

Rhaegar sighed. “We have got confessions from Dondarrion and Swann and from the man who killed Lord Tywin. They site their opposition to the reforms Father is planning as the reasons for why did what they did. They are to be executed today.  There was also word from Riverrun, Lords Stark and Tully and Brandon Stark and Catelyn Tully have been murdered at their wedding. Frey and Bracken seem behind it, though Elbert Arryn was seen fleeing the scene before the murders happened. Furthermore, Arryn and Baratheon refuse to pay the interest on their taxes.” His heart clenched again.

“What does this mean?” Shaena asked, her voice soft, though he could hear the fear.

“Father has given Baratheon and Arryn one last chance to pay the interest, if they do not, then their lands and titles are forfeit and they are traitors. I believe there will be war.” Rhaegar responded. Shaena said nothing, they just stood there and held one another for a long time, until Ser Arthur came and informed them it was time to go to the executions. He left thirty men guarding his children and wife, and walked out to Traitor’s Gate, where the executions were to be held. He watched as three men were executed alongside their wives. He watched the crowd roar their approval at the blood that was shed, he watched it all and he knew that what he had read was coming true, despite his best efforts to stop it.

The days went by and his son became more and more ill, Rhaegar knew what would happen and he felt anger, anger at the gods for taking his son away, for making his wife cry and cry, and for making him feel so helpless. He toured the city, meeting with people and garnering their support. He had meetings with his father where they went over all possible situations and solutions. He watched more people be executed for what happened at Riverrun. He spent time with his wife and children, doing what he could to heal the wounds forming as Aegon became another figure on death’s door.  And then word came back from the Vale, a declaration of war, and a reneging of fealty. He sighed, and said his prayers.


	44. Hallelujah Goat: Ned XI

 

He was a married man, that thought continued to run through his mind now and then. He still had a hard time believing that Ashara was his wife, that she had said yes in the first place. He counted himself a very lucky man, and he hoped that his wife was enjoying herself, he knew that Winterfell was very different to Starfall or King’s Landing. So far it seemed that Ashara was enjoying herself, and it seemed that the people of Winterfell loved her, they seemed to be very accommodating and Ashara was doing her best to understand northern culture and the ways of the north, as well as the larger culture that the King wanted. Ned was happy, and he felt guilty for that happiness considering what had happened to Father and Brandon.

When the raven had come, he had not been able to believe it. Who would dare attack someone at their wedding? Who would dare kill someone at their own wedding? Brandon was gone, Father was gone, taken before their time. Lyanna had arrived back in Winterfell, and he had hugged her tightly, and then he had asked her what had happened. Her words had been frantic, the wedding had gone off without a hitch, but she had had to go outside, because Lady Sara had taken ill and Lyanna had not wanted to leave her alone considering where they had been. And when she had tried to return she had seen the doors barred and fighting happening. She had fled as soon as she could, learning on the way of Father and Brandon’s deaths. Winterfell had been haunted by that, the bodies had been returned and buried. Ser Brynden had also sent him the heads of those who had done the deeds. Their heads decorated spikes on the walls. He felt guilty for feeling happy and in love when his brother and father were dead.

Ned stared at the heart tree, and felt Ashara’s hand on his shoulder. He did not turn around, but he did speak. “I do not know what I am doing.” There was silence, and then he spoke again, Ashara had that way with him. Of getting him to speak when normally he would remain completely silent. “Father and Brandon are dead, Lyanna does not leave her room, and there are whisperings that there are those plotting things against Winterfell to prevent us from marching south to aid the King.” The raven had come two days ago, summoning them all to aid the King against the traitorous Arryns and Baratheons. “Lyanna said that Elbert Arryn had attended the wedding on behalf of his uncle. But that he left before the first course was even removed.” Ashara knew this as well as he did, she had been there when Lyanna had spoken, had comforted Lyanna when she had broken down and cried. “Father thought there was something odd about Arryn, he always did think that the man had too much leeway.” Father had always been right, it seemed this was one more thing he was right about. “I do not know what to do about the Ryswells.” That was a lie he knew what needed to be done.

“Ned.” Ashara said softly, and he turned around.

Her silvery hair was braided, and her cheeks were pink slightly. He moved slightly and opened his cloak to her, she sat down and moved in toward him. “I think that the Ryswells need to die. They are responsible for the things that happened. The information is all there. They conspired with Brackens and Freys and they plotted to send Brandon to his death. They gave him false information and made him think that they were okay with him leaving Barbrey without the financial aid he’d promised her.” When he had learned of that agreement, Ned had wanted to scream. Had father known? Had Father even cared? “It has been left to me to clean up his mess as always. Just like when we were children. I cannot leave Lord Ryswell alive, nor his heir or his second son. But the others, I do not know. Bethany Ryswell is married to Roose Bolton, and Roose was the one who provided me with the information. Barbrey is married to Willam Dustin, but Willam was the one who hit Brandon and got him to stay away from Barbrey.” Willam was a good man, firm and loyal, and Brandon had been terrified of him. “I execute all of the Ryswell men that splits the inheritance between Bolton and Dustin, I do not want to give them all the lands and riches. So, what do I do?” He wished the King had given firmer instructions, but the King had simply told him to address the matter and move forward. The war was coming and the north’s support would be needed.

“You do what you think is right.” Ashara said simply. “Do you want the Ryswells to go extinct in the male line?”

It seemed so cold and final when it was said like that, and Ned knew that normally he would be the first one to see that, the world was cold and final when it came to politics he had known that for a long time. Yet suddenly, now he was Lord of Winterfell, and not simply the spare, it all seemed a bit much. He felt Ashara take his hand and link their fingers together. He sighed and replied. “I want to make them suffer. But I also know that they are important as a counter balance to the Dustins and the Boltons. They bring an element of simplicity to things that would be lacking should I remove them. Furthermore, they balance one another out. Give Dustin and Bolton the inheritance and they will squabble over it like children. I cannot have that. Not with the war approaching.”

“There is also the fact that Roose Ryswell and Benjen know one another and that Roose was the one who told you of where his father had hidden the letters.” Ashara pointed out.

Ned nodded, Roose was about four and ten namedays old, he had come to Ned one day after the arrests, and told Ned what his father would not. Ned could not forget that. Nor could he forget Benjen pleading for his friend’s life. “I suppose having Roose here in Winterfell and as Lord of the Rills would not hurt. He is a more amenable man, and more compelling than his brothers.” Roger and Rickard were foolish oafs, more suited to thuggery then lordship.

Ashara nodded, she had told him herself that she had not found Roger or Rickard nice or even remotely pleasing in regards to their decorum. “I think you have your answer. And do not worry about the other lords say. They will understand your decision.” Ned sighed. He knew that Lord Wyman had died at the wedding, alongside Jeor Mormont and Lord Umber, Jon Umber, the new Lord of Last Hearth was a great swaggering giant who knew much and said little beyond how he was going to kill Freys. “I think that you must make the decision quickly, my love, after all there will be a great many who would wish for their own personal revenge on the Ryswells, and then in that instance, Bolton might encourage them.”

Ned sighed once more, his wife was not wrong. Roose Bolton might have done his bit to ensure the Ryswells were under lock and key, but he was still a man and he was still ambitious, if he could add to his house’s revenues and prestige he would. Ned would not grant him the full lands, even if his wife was the heir under the right of the firstborn, but getting half the lands would be something else. And then there was the fact that he might consider prodding Dustin into outright murder, considering the fact that Willam and Brandon had been as close as brothers. Ned sighed, he knew that if that happened the lands would fall in their entirety to Roose under default law. He could not allow that to happen. He ran a hand through his hair then stood, helping his wife up to her feet. He kissed and smiled. “What would I do without you?” He jested, but he meant it as well. His wife smiled in response, and they walked back to the castle, hand in hand. As they arrived back in the courtyard, Ned saw Vayon Poole his steward. “Vayon, summon the lords, tell them to make their way to the great hall. It is time.” The man nodded and hurried off. Ned looked around for Martyn, before remembering with gut wrenching clarity that Martyn was dead, he had been murdered at Riverrun. Ned closed his eyes, felt Ashara squeeze his hand and then he moved forward.

Ashara and he took their seats, he on the Winter Throne and she next to him, where the Queens of the North traditionally sat. The hall filled and there was an expectant murmur around the hall, he saw Benjen and Lyanna sat on a table with Jonelle Cerwyn and Dacey Mormont, he nodded to them, then spoke. “My lords and ladies, it has been some time since we last met like this. A great tragedy occurred a few moons ago. My father and brother were murdered at my brother’s wedding. They were taken and killed for no rhyme or reason. Their executioners rest within this very castle. Ser Rodrick bring in the prisoners.” The doors clanged open and the Ryswells were dragged in, their chains clinking as they moved, the hall jeered as they were made to kneel before the throne. Ned felt his blood turn to ice as he stared at Lord Ryswell, the man’s head had been shaved, but his beard grew long, it was down to his stomach at this point, Ned thought. He cleared his throat and the hall fell silent. “Lord Rodrik, you and your sons are guilty of plotting against your liege lord and your King, both are crimes of treason. You are guilty of plotting murder and execution. You and the Freys and Brackens had a hand in ensuring that the guests of Brandon Stark’s wedding did not make it out alive. Tell me, why. Why would you do this?”

Nothing was said for a time, then Lord Rodrik spoke, his voice husky. “Your family is turning its back on its roots, on its heritage. Your father was embracing a southern history and heritage that is not the way of the north. We are the last bastions of the old way, we had to protect that. The Starks have forgotten!”

“The Starks have forgotten nothing!” Jon Umber bellowed. “It is you who have forgotten, Ryswell!”

There were murmurs of agreement, Rodrik Ryswell, remained impassive. “I did what I thought was right. These reforms that the King planned, they take away from who we are. They reduce us to nothingness; they make it so that we are merely another set of people who could be taxed and manipulated. I would not have it.”

“So, instead of bringing this to the Lord of Winterfell’s attention, you decided instead to plot his murder?” Ned asked, his voice sounding cold, even to his own ears.

“Your father did not listen. I brought it up, many a time. We discussed the merits. He was blinded by his desire to bring the north, to bring the Starks closer to the crown. He wanted that above anything else, he had forgotten the way in which the crown had treated his ancestors previously. Your brother saw that!” Lord Rodrik said.

Angry murmurs spread through the crowd, Ned felt slightly uncomfortable, he knew that was what Rodrik had wanted to achieve by mentioning Brandon, but Ned could not allow his own personal feelings to bleed through now. He had to be cold and unmoving. “That does not excuse what you did. You decided to turn to violence when talking could have worked. You plotted and executed murder. That means you must suffer the punishment.” Ned looked around the room and stated. “In the name of His Majesty, King Aerys of House Targaryen, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, Protector of the Realm and King of the Andals and the First Men, I do hereby sentence you to death.” He got up off the throne, grabbed his sword from Ser Rodrik, watched as Rodrik Ryswell was forced down, so his neck was nearly touching the ground, he took a breath and then in one swing removed head from body. “Place it on the walls.” He said. He turned to look at Rickard and Roger Ryswell and said. “As you both took part in your father’s treason, you two shall die.” Both men were forced down, and Ned took their heads, it took twice with Roger, and thrice with Rickard, but eventually it was done. Their heads were also mounted on the walls. Ned gave the sword to Rodrik Cassel to clean, and sat back down on the winter throne. “Now, we are marching to war on the morrow. We must discuss our war plans.”

If the lords and ladies present were surprised by the relatively calm manner with which he changed the topic of conversation, and how he ignored the blood that stained the floor, none of them said anything. Indeed, Jon Umber was the first to speak. “My lord, we know that the Freys were involved in that heinous crime at Riverrun, I say we position our first attack there. On the Twins. Let us remove it root and stem.”

Ned thought about this, he knew that Jaime’s cousin was Lord of the Crossing, and he was not sure whether that man had had a hand in what happened at Riverrun, from what he remembered of him, Cleos Frey did not seem the type, but then his father Emmon had conspired against Lord Tywin the first time. Before Ned could respond, Lord Willam spoke. “I want revenge as much as the next man, but the Twins has never been taken, the Green Fork splits it in two, and the two castles are heavily defended. We might be able to take it, but we would lose countless men along the way. A heavy burden.”

“But think about the message it would send out. The Freys have been a blight on this land for so long, we must remove them. Furthermore, the only way into the Riverlands is through the passage that the Twins controls. Unless we march all the way out west or east and cross, which would leave us open to attack from the rear.” Umber pointed out.

“Take the Kingsroad straight down from here through the Moat and we would be there. Admittedly we would make a steady pathway through the Neck, but with the aid of the crannog people we would have our rears protected, and it would give us more time to get the lay of the land.” Dustin countered.

There was some agreement there, and Ned thought of the word he had received, of the approaching Arryn host, some thirty thousand strong marching into the Riverlands. Riding straight past the Twins would make sense, for convenience, they had some twenty-five thousand men prepared for the call, but taking the Twins itself might set the tone for the rest of the campaign. He did not want to march all the way around the Twins and risk being hit from behind. He knew Cleos, he knew the man, and he knew the boy, he thought he might be able to play on that. He looked at Ashara, their eyes conveying their thoughts. After a moment, he looked back at the gathered lords and said. “We shall ride for the Twins.” Umber and his supporters cheered, but Ned raised a hand and they fell silent. “We shall not attack them immediately, we shall see what they have to say first, should they prove resistant to common sense then we shall destroy them.” Umber nodded and Dustin seemed satisfied.

Bolton spoke then his voice soft. “What then? Once we have ascertained what happens to the Freys, where do we go from there?”

Ned considered the query, Arryn was marching his sizeable army into the Riverlands from the East, Jaime would be coming from the West, who knew what Baratheon would do? He considered it and then said. “We shall make for Fairmarket and prepare set up ourselves there.” Fairmarket would provide a good base, next to the rivers, and toward the towns and inns needed for resupply. Bolton nodded and there was a murmur of approval throughout the hall. Ned decided he wanted to spend the rest of his time with his wife, and not with the lords and ladies who had come. “Now, if there is nothing else, you are all dismissed.” The lords and ladies got up and bowed before they filed out. Eventually it was just him, Ashara, Benjen and Lyanna left within the great hall. Lyanna came to stand at the foot of the throne and spoke.

“Who are you marrying me off to?”  Ned raised an eyebrow and his sister huffed. “Come on Ned, I’m not an idiot, I know that you will need an alliance for this war to go in your favour. And I am the best bargaining tool you have. So, who are you marrying me off to?”

Ned hesitated, he had not thought about that, yet. He admitted before everything he had had some half-baked notions, but now, now he was not sure. He did not know what to say, and was glad when Ashara said. “As of right now we are still considering options. Ser Willas Tyrell, Prince Quentyn Martell and Edmure Tully are all options.”

Lyanna nodded and said. “Very well, please just make sure to tell me what they are like before you agree to anything.”

Ned could promise his sister that much, so he said. “Of course.” Lyanna smiled curtseyed and then grabbed Benjen by the hand and led him out of the hall.

Ned sighed, Ashara took his hand and kissed it. “Everything’s going to be fine, my love.”

Ned looked at her and said. “When I am with you, it is.” He wondered briefly if he should bring her with him on campaign, then scratched that idea, despite longing to.

 

 

 

 

 

 


	45. Moth: Jaime IX

Marriage was something that felt good, he loved Dany and she loved him. They complimented one another very well, she was smart and slightly reserved but with a playful side that very few got to see. He considered himself very lucky to be the one who got to see that side of his wife. She was good with managing the books and some of the more tedious aspects that came with being a lady of a great house. That she got on famously well with Mother also helped. The two most important women in his life getting on well was something that Jaime had always hoped would happen and that it was a truth was always going to be a good thing for him.

Dany had helped him handle his grief as well. When word had come of Father’s murder, he had been a mess. He had wanted to do so many things, that he had felt overwhelmed. As the new Lord of the Rock and Warden of the West he had had to remain impassive when the news had been given to him, though he had wanted to slump down and scream. He had cried into Dany’s chest later, and she had held him and stroked his hair. She had provided him with the strength he needed to be there for Mother, and Cersei and Tyrion. He had done all he could to be there for his family, and Dany had been there for him. He loved her with everything he had. And he was confident that she loved him as well.

That was why when the raven had come from King’s Landing, carrying strict instructions from the King, Jaime had hesitated. He knew war was necessary, the rebels could not be allowed to continue on their dangerous path. The man who had murdered Father had been executed, but Jaime had a feeling that those who were really responsible for his murder were the ones now rebelling and Jaime wanted to handle them. But at the same time, he was nervous about leaving. He had seen how war had affected Ned, how Duskendale had kept his foster brother up screaming for days and months afterwards. He was scared that that would happen to him. Yet he had summoned the banners, and the war was happening.

Jaime took a breath, blinked and then looked at his wife and mother. Both of them were looking at him expectantly. “I do not think it would be right for Dany to come with me on campaign. After all, war is no place for a lady, you are a Lannister by marriage and a Targaryen by birth, you would make a very valuable hostage should anyone dare think that way.” He knew that some would also mutter at his wife’s presence there simply because she was a Targaryen.

His wife however, did not seem convinced. “I know that that is a risk, Jaime, but I am as you say a Targaryen by birth. The fighting that you propose will take place in the Riverlands. The Riverlords have traditionally been staunch supporters of my family. Any lords who are wavering could well be convinced to side with us, should I be present.”

Jaime knew his wife was correct, there were reports streaming in of lords remaining firmly rooted within their castles, and not moving for either Hoster Tully or Hendry Bracken, perhaps his wife’s presence could break that deadlock. But at the same time, there was another concern. “And having you within our army would also put our soldiers at extra risk. Do you think they will be able to fight just as freely knowing that their Lady is within their ranks? Soldiers will have to be assigned to guard you, that will take men away from the field.”

“Men who would otherwise be guarding baggage trains and food supplies. I would only need two or three guards at most. No more. I would not need the number; I know you are thinking about.” Dany replied.

Jaime turned to his mother, Lady Joanna’s face was expressionless, for a time he had worried that Father’s death had made Mother fully give into her grief, but he had come to learn that this was how Mother was normally, this was her political face. “Surely you do not agree with this Mother? Surely you can see why Dany needs to stay here. She is Lady of the Rock, she should be in the Rock, not off gallivanting around the countryside.”

“I would not be gallivanting around the countryside!” His wife protested vehemently. “I would be with you, my husband. I would be where I need to be.”

“And what would happen to the Rock? Who would manage it? Who would look over its accounts and its stores? Who would ensure that the servants are paid on time?” Jaime demanded. He knew it was a weak excuse when Mother was still with them, but he had to make it anyway.

It was at this juncture that Mother decided to speak. “I am still here, Jaime. I might not be as young as I once was, but I was lady of the Rock for twenty years, I know how to manage the accounts and the household, and to ensure the servants are all paid. I know what needs to be done. I think Dany as your wife should accompany you on campaign. She will be good for you, and you will need her more than you think, after the fighting, and during it.”

Jaime looked at his Mother, wanting to demand why she would say that, he did not want to give into his desire for his wife to be with him at all times, he knew that could be dangerous not only for him, but for her. Instead he asked his mother. “You would be comfortable doing all of that?”

Mother smiled at him. “I have done it before, and I would not have difficulty doing it again.” Mother looked at Dany then and said. “Besides I think Dany would prefer being with you, then here, when Cersei would be doing what Cersei does, wouldn’t you, sweetling?”

His wife blushed slightly, but said all the same. “Yes.”

Jaime threw up his hands. “Fine. You can come to the front, but please don’t get in the way.” He was rewarded with a kiss to the cheek that made him smile. Then he remembered the other thing that Mother had said and he asked. “What has Cersei been doing?” His sister seemed to vary in mood, sometimes she was very pleasant and easy to talk to, other times she was moody and not willing to do anything but sleep and read. Jaime wondered why she was like this, and neither Mother or Dany had provided him with an answer.

“She continues to read the book of poetry that that Braavosi trader gave her.” Mother said.

Jaime stared at his Mother for a long moment. “You mean that book of love poems? Why is she reading that? She called it a lot of nonsense when he gave it to her?” He remembered that because he’d had to chastise her about not insulting their guest, she’d merely laughed at him and fluttered her eyelashes at the man.

“Yes, well it seems she has taken a liking to it and has begun reading it quite a lot, and quite loudly as well.” Mother replied, sharing a sympathetic look with Dany.

Jaime saw the look and asked. “And I take it this has started becoming a regular occurrence whenever you are with her?”

“Yes, though I do not think she means it maliciously. I think she is merely sad. After all, you and I are married, Lord Eddard and Lady Ashara are married, the two people she knows best are married and she is not.” Dany said defensively.

Jaime’s eyes widened. “You think she wants to be married?” He could not imagine that, every boy who had tried to court Cersei recently had left with their hearts in tatters and their pride wounded beyond repair.

“I think that your sister is merely going through another stage in the journey of becoming a woman.” Mother said simply.

Jaime stared at his Mother, comprehension slowly coming to him. He shuddered slightly and said. “I see.” There was a brief, awkward pause, and then he asked. “Do you think I should start looking for someone for her to marry then?”

“As you are about to enter a war, that would be beneficial to the cause, yes.” Mother replied. “I have already shortlisted several candidates for consideration.” Mother pulled out a piece of paper which had several names on it, all of them written neatly. She handed him the piece of paper and he read through it.

When he was done, he asked. “How old is Edmure Tully?”

“Three and ten namedays old. He would’ve been a good match had the Riverlands not been tearing itself apart. My personal preference is for either Willas Tyrell or for Horas Redwyne, or for Randyll Tarly. Quentyn Martell might be heir to Dorne, but Dorne has never gotten involved in any such conflicts, and I do not think that Doran Martell is like to change that. With the war, marrying Cersei to one of your bannermen does not make sense.” Mother said simply.

Jaime nodded and said. “I shall need to think on this.”

“Naturally.” Mother replied, standing up. “Do not take too long to think over it though.” With that she nodded and walked out of the solar, leaving Jaime alone with Dany.

Jaime looked at his wife and asked. “What do you think? Who should Cersei be married to?” Though they had been close once, Jaime and his sister had drifted apart over the years. It made sense, he had not really been at home that often since he was around eight namedays old. Still, there was a part of him that missed his sister, missed the closeness they had shared. Dany was close to Cersei, and likely knew her better than anyone else did, apart from Mother.

His wife took a moment to think over the query before replying. “I think that Cersei might like Willas Tyrell, or she might like Quentyn Martell. I think she would want someone who listens to her and makes her feel as though she matters. The others that Mother has listed don’t or won’t do that as it does not fit in with their personalities.”

Jaime nodded. “I suppose then that Ned and I shall be in competition for getting Willas’s hand for our sisters.”

“You know Lord Eddard is looking to get Ser Willas for his sister?” Dany enquired.

“He mentioned it in his last letter.” Jaime replied. “I think that he might go for it simply because from what we know of him Ser Willas is the only one who would realistically put up with all the quirks and oddness that make up Lyanna Stark.”

Dany smirked slightly, then she became more sombre. “How is Lord Eddard holding up?”

Jaime sighed, word of the Red Wedding had reached them and when it had, they had all been horrified, Jaime had thought only of his brother, and how this would be another thing that would keep him up at night. He hoped that Lady Ashara was doing all she could to make sure her husband was not struggling. “I think he is coping. He has not written much of how he feels about what happened. But I know he appreciates what Lady Ashara has and is doing for him.”

“And how do you feel, my love?” Dany asked moving closer to him, so that their shoulders were touching.

He took her hand in his. “Better. I miss Father, but it no longer hurts as badly as it did before. I have you to thank for that, my love.” He turned and kissed her full on the mouth. She kissed him back, when they eventually broke apart, he could feel the heat in his face. “I’m glad you’re coming with me. I do not think I could manage with you.”

Dany kissed him again, and did not reply. She did not need to, he knew how she felt, he could feel it in the way she kissed him, in the way she hugged him and then kissed him again. Eventually, they had to separate, they got up and moved to their rooms. They made love then and Jaime enjoyed it, not knowing when they would next get to do this so freely. When they were done, he washed and changed and made his way over to the great hall, where the lords of the West were gathered for the war council. They all fell silent when he entered and took his seat on the Lion Throne. He looked at them all and then asked. “What word has there been?”

Uncle Kevan spoke. “Bracken forces under the command of Hendry Bracken defeated a host under the command of Tytos Blackwood at the Battle of the Sound and they are currently laying siege to Raventree Hall. Robert Baratheon and his Stormlords managed to defeat a host under the command of Lord Cafferen at Summerhall and they also managed to secure their border with the Reach by defeating Randyll Tarly’s host. Tarly is badly wounded.”

“What of the crown, what has His Majesty, the King done?” Jaime asked. He knew the King; he knew that the man would never sit on his laurels.

“Our sources report that he has ordered King’s Landing fortified and has also summoned the banners, they are preparing to march southwards to deal with Robert Baratheon.” Uncle Kevan stated.

“Who commands them?” Jaime asked, he hoped it was Owen Merryweather, that man was a fool, a fool who had to be removed for the crown to really shine through.

“From what our sources say, the King himself plans on leading the host to handle Baratheon.” Uncle Kevan stated.

Jaime’s eyes widened. “What of Prince Rhaegar?”

“He commands another host marching northwards to aid the Blackwoods against the Brackens.” Uncle Kevan replied.

“This has Jon Arryn’s hands all over it.” Lord Crakehall said.

Jaime looked at the man and asked. “What do you mean, my lord?”

“When there was last a war within Westeros, it was during the Pheasant Uprising during the reign of King Aegon the Fortunate. Jon Arryn was one of the main instigators of the uprising, though the King never gained enough proof to suggest that he was. In his manner of speaking, Arryn spoke of how if he were to ever rebel against the crown he would do it this way. Use minor houses to cause diversions, and use his main ally to bring the King southwards, and then he would bring the might of his army into the Riverlands to sweep away any and all opposition.” Lord Crakehall replied.

Jaime considered the information he had just been given as well as what Lord Crakehall had just said and then said. “So, you believe then that Arryn wants the King and the Prince of Dragonstone separated from one another, and that he will try and destroy the Prince’s host first?”

“Yes. Remove the Prince, the King is left with only a sickly grandson as his main heir, thus adding strength to any who might want Robert Baratheon on the throne.” Lord Crakehall said.

“Nowhere has the man stated that is his goal.” Lord Brax countered. “Indeed in the raven he sent to everyone, he merely stated that the King had lost his way and that he intended to fix that.”

Lord Crakehall snorted. “Come now, Andros, you must know what that means. The King is not going to easily change his mind, and with Jon Arryn and Robert Baratheon having rebelled, he is never going to listen to them. The King remembers what happened to his grandsire too well for that to work. No, Jon Arryn knows that removing the Targaryens from the throne is the only reasonable thing he can do for his head to remain on his shoulders.”

Brax opened his mouth and then shut it abruptly, and Jaime wondered at that, he also wondered where Tytos was, he would’ve thought that the heir to the Brax family would’ve been at this meeting, and knowing him he would’ve been. Jaime looked around the hall, found his uncle Gerion’s eye, and slowly nodded, his uncle nodded and slipped out of the hall. Jaime brought his attention back to the matter at hand when he heard Lord Jast state. “We must defend the crown, marching for King’s Landing would make the most sense.”

Jaime laughed. “Come now, my lord, surely you are not that foolish? The land is up in arms, we are fighting for the King, not trying to remove him. Unless the King invites us to the capital, we cannot go there.”

“Even if it means the city is threatened?” Jast threw back at him.

“The city shall not be threatened, for we shall not let Arryn attack the Crown Prince.” Jaime retorted. “We shall march forth from here and into the Riverlands, we shall go first to Riverrun to aid the Tullys and then we shall march for Fairmarket and Raventree Hall. We shall force confrontation with Arryn and we shall destroy him.”

“And should he not take the bait? Should he remain within the Vale, or go around us?” Jast asked.

“Then we shall find him and we shall destroy him, and then we shall find Baratheon and destroy him as well.” Jaime stated simply. There were murmurs of agreement there, but nobody voiced anything in opposition to his words. “We shall leave on the morrow, prepare yourselves, drink, whore, do what you need to do tonight, for tomorrow we march for war.” There was a definitive cheer at that, and the lords filed out. Jaime spent the day and the evening pouring over plans for the war, preparing for every eventuality and keeping himself updated on everything. When a messenger told him that Riverrun was under siege, he knew he was right to suggest what he had. Dany and he made love that night, and in the morning, they rode out with twenty thousand men, for the Riverlands and for war. He took one last look at the Rock and swore he would return.


	46. Surrender Unto Me: Rhaegar III

The sound of men training echoed across the yard and into the castle. Rhaegar heard it and felt a pit form in his stomach. War was never a pleasant experience. The songs would never tell you of the chaos and the destruction that came from fighting, they would not tell you of the men who died screaming for their loved ones, they would not tell you of the look on the faces of the men who had just watched their friends, their fathers, their brothers cut down before them. Songs could never tell you of what it felt like to feel guilty that you had survived when so many other worthy men had died. Rhaegar listened to the men fighting, he listened to the steel as it clanged off other steel, and he sighed.

The war they had tried so desperately to prevent had come anyway. It seemed that when man was determined to bring his own destruction he would stop at nothing until he had pulled his fellow man down into the dirt along with him. Bracken had laid siege to Raventree Hall after forcing Blackwood away from battle. Bracken had then fled before Rhaegar and the royal army he commanded could handle him. Bracken was most likely at Stone Hedge, but they needed time to regroup. There had been a minor clash against House Grell and their allies. Rhaegar had wielded Dark Sister and cut down Lord Grell, he had seen the anguish on the son of Lord Grell, and he had wanted to comfort the boy, but there was nothing more he could do. Grell and their allies had chosen their side and they would be treated as such.

That had been three days ago, since then there had been quiet. It was unnerving. Rhaegar hoped his wife and children were well, he hoped Aegon could heal and be well. He was not sure when he would return, but he knew he would. He had to, he had made a promise after all. He pulled himself away from his musings and turned to face the men who were sat watching him. “Forgive me, my lords.” He said, the lords nodded and he continued. “It has been three days since Lord Grell and his allies attacked us. Three days since we sent them back to meet the Seven. In that time, we have heard nothing, not whisper of sound or movement from Lord Bracken, or from anyone else for that matter. This isolation does us no good. Lord Whent, what have your scouts heard?” Lord Whent had sent fifty men out around the Riverlands to learn what they could, and with the money and wealth of Harrenhal behind them, it was hoped people would talk.

Lord Walter Whent was man of middling height, but firm morals. He had rallied early to the King’s call to arms and had used his vast wealth to bring in not only his own retainers but some five thousand sellswords as well. He looked contemplative as he spoke. “So far thirty of my men have returned. They report that Lord Stark and the North have crossed over at the Twins, they wrought destruction there when Cleos Frey refused to let them passed. The Twins now lie in ruins and the Freys who were there are either all dead or being sent off to meet their makers at one point or another.”

There was a murmur at that, Rhaegar felt a brief tinge of sickness in his stomach at the thought of women and children being murdered, then pushed that thought away when he remembered that the Freys had had no more children since Walder Frey had died. It was mainly young men and women with treasonous intentions. “Lord Stark plans on making his way to Fairmarket.” Rhaegar stated, a rider had come hurrying down the King’s Road a few days ago to tell them that. “We should plan on meeting him there.”

“Your Royal Highness, Fairmarket is due north of here. Would it not make more sense to ask Lord Stark to bring his army here? After all, the more men we have here, the better prepared we shall be for when Arryn finally decides to bring his army over the mountains.” Lord Blackwood said.

“I do not think Arryn will bring his men over the mountain to attack Raventree Hall, my lord.” Rhaegar replied. “I think he will make a move to capture as many towns as he possibly can before he tries to link up with Robert Baratheon.  The sensible solution would be for him to take the High Road southwards and attack Darry, which is why I asked Lord Darry to remain there with some four hundred men. However, from the reports I have read, Arryn would most likely either try and make a move south from the Vale crossing over at Saltpans, or he will make a move further north crossing down the path from Strongsong. Either way he will be splitting his host in two and will aim to meet up again. For his war effort to succeed he will need to take a town where there are plenty of resources. Fairmarket is that town.”

“Common sense would dictate that he march down the High Road and take Darry then move northwards. But if he wants to link with Robert Baratheon, he would need to move toward Saltpans and go from there. Which would leave King’s Landing very vulnerable. There is also the matter of the ships that are stationed in Gulltown. I am surprised that he hasn’t used them.” Lord Whent stated.

“Arryn is not the sort of person to use a merchant fleet of only about thirty ships to do something he could do with twenty thousand men.” Lord Mooton replied. “He is more likely to do as His Royal Highness suggests and make for either Saltpans or Fairmarket.”

“In which case Your Royal Highness, I would suggest sending a host to Saltpans to better prepare it for whatever Arryn might throw in its direction.” Lord Blackwood suggested.

“Send a host to Saltpans and divide the army? We cannot do that, Your Royal Highness. The Riverlands are a veritable cesspool of treachery at the moment, we need to preserve our resources in one place for as long as possible.” Replied the conservative Lord Stokeworth.

Lord Brune snorted. “And what? Leave a town like Saltpans open for rebels to take? They take Saltpans they have access to more wealth and resources than Fairmarket has. They would more than likely decide to advance on King’s Landing directly, and they’d have the crossing to do so. I say we send a small contingent to Saltpans to protect it. Knowing the Cox family, they’re more likely to fight properly if a contingent of the royal army is there.”

“Divide the army and we are sunk. I am telling you this now, Arryn might make you think he is going to Saltpans, but knowing his movements he will make for Fairmarket.” Stokeworth fired back.

“And how can you be so sure?” Brune asked. “Has he spoken directly to you, to tell you of his plans?”

Rhaegar saw that Stokeworth was getting increasingly aggravated, and so before he could say something that would make things worse, Rhaegar spoke. “Fairmarket would be where his allies within the Riverlands would want to meet. Furthermore, if he takes Fairmarket he can then plot a direct course southwards to King’s Landing. It would be much easier than trying to get to King’s Landing from Saltpans.” Rhaegar looked down at the map and sighed. “Actually, the more I look at it, the more I think that if he takes Darry, he might well take the King’s Road southwards to the capital.”

“That would be too obvious, Your Royal Highness.” Lord Walter stated. “I believe that whatever Arryn does, he would not do something so very obvious. No doubt he will be looking at all the possible options and assessing what the destruction of the Twins means for him and his plans. Is there any way we could convince His Majesty to venture northwards from the Stormlands?”

Rhaegar remembered the argument he’d had with Father over that, and shook his head. “Unfortunately, I do not think so. His Majesty is quite convinced that he must be the one to defeat Baratheon directly to prevent him from joining with Arryn.” Privately, Rhaegar thought Father harboured dreams of doing what Baelor Breakspear had done to Daemon Blackfyre’s army at Redgrass field, and to take credit where before only Tywin had gotten some credit for their exploits during the War of the Ninepenny Kings. That Baratheon had defeated both Cafferen and Tarly was another thing to consider as well. “I think we must trust that His Majesty knows what is best and prepare as best as we ourselves can.” He trailed off, thinking that  things would be so much easier if they knew exactly what was happening in the Reach, but as of yet it seemed that all communication had been cut off. Tentatively he asked. “Lord Whent, have your men received any information from the Reach? Do we know what the Tyrells are doing?”

Lord Walter shook his head. “Unfortunately not, Your Royal Highness. From what little news they have received, it seems that Lord Tarly is hanging onto life by a thread, and it appears Tyrell is having difficulty deciding what to do. As far as I know Florent, Peake, the green apple Fossoways, Ambrose and Blackbar have all refused to answer Tyrell’s summon to arms, and so I think that they shall be handling that for some time.”

Rhaegar fought the urge to sigh. With Tarly, out of action, Tyrell would need to be depended on and having met Mace Tyrell a few times, Rhaegar did not hold out hope that the man would be able to deliver anything of note. He ran a hand through his hair, then looked down at the map once more. “We must draw Bracken out of Stone Hedge and we must do so quickly.  The longer we remain within these walls, the more time he has to ask for aid. The more time we spend here, the more restless the men get. We must keep them ordered and within reason.”

“What do you suggest we do, Your Royal Highness?” Lord Blackwood asked.

“I say we send a raiding party northwards, toward the border area. Dress them in your colours, do what we can to bait Bracken into coming out of his castle. When he is out in the open, we pounce on him and capture him. Without their lord, the Bracken soldiers will not be so willing to commit treason.” Rhaegar said, he was not sure how true that was, Bracken and Blackwood sometimes seemed to be a law unto themselves sometimes.

Thankfully, Blackwood seemed convinced of the plan for he responded. “Very well, I shall send some of my men as well, they will make it more convincing. Furthermore, if they go toward the Ledge, then Bracken will definitely make his move from his castle. Unlike his uncle, Hendry Bracken most definitely has attachment to that lump of trees and rocks. He will be outraged.”

Rhaegar nodded. “Good. And remember, I want Bracken taken alive. I do not want him murdered in cold blood. Whatever feud you two have, the good of the kingdom must come before that. I want to know why he is rebelling and what he has been promised.” No man rebelled for someone such as Jon Arryn unless they had been promised exorbitant riches, and Rhaegar wanted to know what that thing was.

Lord Blackwood nodded. “Of course, Your Royal Highness.” Rhaegar waved a hand and the lords stood up and walked out of the room, bowing as they did so.

The sound of men practising had faded. “What hour is it?” Rhaegar asked.

“Lunch, Your Royal Highness.” Ser Arthur replied.

Rhaegar said nothing, thinking through what had been discussed in the meeting, debating which course to take. Eventually he spoke, a question in his voice. “Which do you think makes more sense? Saltpans or Fairmarket?”

Ser Arthur spoke first. “I think remaining within the boundaries of the Riverlands makes sense. Fairmarket is in a clearer course to King’s Landing. The Saltpans have resources yes, but Fairmarket comes with the prestige that it once belonged to House Justman and also contains symbolic relics from the time of the Andal settlement.”

“I agree with Ser Arthur, Your Royal Highness.” Ser Oswell said. “Fairmarket would be a symbolic victory for Arryn, and it would greatly impede the Tullys.”

Rhaegar nodded, the Tullys were under siege in Riverrun, but seemed to be winning. Rhaegar knew the Lannisters were going to their aid, and if they lost Fairmarket their legitimacy as Lords of the Riverlands would be lost alongside the knowledge of House Justman, which every house who had ever ruled the Riverlands had borne. “Still, Brune made a valid point. Arryn might well try a circular movement against us. I would not be surprised if he tried something like that which Aegor Rivers tried against Daeron the Good during the Blackfyre rebellion.” That little manoeuvre had been what had led to Redgrass field, and all the lives that had been lost.

Lunch was roasted chicken and potatoes. He ate it, and savoured it, but he did not truly taste it. His mind was on other things, mainly how to force Bracken to give over the information that he wanted, peacefully. He did not want to have to torture Bracken, for the lad was young, he was doing what he thought was right, but at the same time, he had still committed treason, and the crime for treason was death. At the same time, Rhaegar was wary of giving Stone Hedge or much of anything to Blackwood, the man was a snake, and it had taken time for Father to think through what needed to be done with Bracken and the Bracken lands. He sighed, finished his food and then started to rise, when there was a knock on the door. “Enter.” He called out.

The door opened and in ran Lord Blackwood himself. “Your Royal Highness, my apologies for the disturbance, but you should come and see this.”

“What?” Rhaegar asked getting up.

“Men, thousands of men, flying the banner.” Blackwood said.

Rhaegar felt something rise in him, what it was he was not sure, but he moved to the door, his Kingsguard knights behind him. He followed Blackwood to the walls and saw them. There were at least three thousand men, armoured and mounted, flying the banners of an enemy long thought dead. A three-headed black dragon on red, crossed with what looked like a hawk, and a red headed dragon. Rhaegar took a deep breath. “We cannot let them come to the walls. They come to the walls we are finished.”

“Do we ride out and face them?” Blackwood asked sounding nervous.

Rhaegar watched as the enemy continued their march, he thought quickly. Raventree Hall had strong walls and a solid moat, but the walls had taken a battering under Bracken’s assault, and the moat might not be enough for these foes. “Pull in the drawbridge and get the archers ready.” Was his response. He watched as Blackwood did as commanded, and then moved away to prepare himself. He informed Arthur and Oswell of what was happening and then the other lords as well. He was changed quickly, re-emerging dressed in black as night armour with the rubies glittering on his breast plate, Dark Sister was at his side. The vats of oil were being poured into the moat, preparing it for the flames to come. Rhaegar watched this and then saw that the force had stopped a few feet away. Nothing happened for the longest time, and then he heard the whirring of a machine. “Duck!” He yelled just as a rock was flung at the walls.

“They’ve got trebuchets.” Lord Walter yelled. “The walls will take an absolute battering.”

“We need to bring them closer.” Rhaegar said in response as another rock was flung at the walls. It hit and Rhaegar watched as some of the men fell down into the moat below. Another rock was thrown and another, one hit and the other missed. Rhaegar felt the ground shake beneath him and swore. “They’re coming closer now. Archers at the ready.” The command was passed down the line.  “Come on, a bit closer.” The knights were riding hard, the foot soldiers were coming closer, every closer. When they got into good sight, he yelled. “Fire.” Arrows soared into the sky, he watched fascinated as the arrows rose, and then came tumbling down to hit the enemy. Men grunted, and fell, but others kept coming. “Fire.” He yelled. More arrows, more bodies fell, but the enemy kept coming. “Fire in the moat!” He bellowed. Oil and flame, the fire spurted, and the enemy’s horses reared up in protest. “Fire.” He shouted. More arrows, more bodies. Rocks were thrown, walls crumbled, bodies fell into the fire, screaming.

He watched as arrows were exchanged, men on both sides fell, his blood was rushing through, and he knew then that maybe just maybe the fire had been a bad idea. “Douse the flames!” He roared.

“Your Royal Highness, that might not be wise!” Lord Whent yelled in response.

Rhaegar spun. “We will lose more of our men if we don’t. Douse the flames!” Water was brought and poured down onto the moat, which burned and burned. Slowly but surely the flames were dowsed. The enemy came then, battering ram and all, but this time it was easier to pick them off. The bodies only grew, a clogging occurred in the moat. The knights began retreating, their banner was on the ground, in pieces. “Get their commander!” Rhaegar roared.

The man was at the rear of the retreating host, an arrow, or several were aimed and fired. They took down his horse. “Open the gates.” Rhaegar bellowed, and he watched as Lord Blackwood and his men rushed out killing those who were still there straggling behind, he watched as the commander was dragged from his horse and into the castle. As the men returned, and the gates were closed, they cheered. Rhaegar made his way down to the courtyard and looked at the man who was thrown at his feet. “Who are you?” Rhaegar demanded.

The man’s helm had been ripped from him, his hair was brown and mottled with sweat, his armour was covered in dirt and blood. “I am Nestor Royce.” Rhaegar looked at the man and then at Lord Whent, Arryn was closer than they had thought.

 

 

 


	47. Now That We're Dead: Aerys I

The war he had always suspected would come had arrived. Ever since grandfather had died and Father had repealed some of the laws that had been implemented, Aerys had suspected that there would be war. The lords of the realm were to fickle and too treacherous to truly remain loyal forever. Sooner or later, one of them would get ideas above his station and try to implement them. Aerys had often thought that it might be a Stark or Tyrell who tried it, both houses were powerful in different ways, Stark militarily, Tyrell financially, but they were both firmly loyal and always had been. No, instead Arryn, that old cunt had decided to show his true colours, and he had turned Steffon’s son into a traitor also. That was the way of things, but that did not make it right. Aerys was determined to prevent any more harm coming to Steffon’s son, the boy had suffered enough.

Of course, the boy was also proving annoyingly good at winning battles. He’d defeated Cafferen and then turned the man’s son over to his side. He’d beaten and wounded Randyll Tarly, and pushed back the Reach’s forces, enabling Florent to start the long waited uprising. Yes, Robert Baratheon was a good soldier, but Aerys had a feeling that there was someone else dictating the battle plans and strategy, from what Varys had told him, Robert Baratheon was not much of a thinker. That did not matter though, Aerys knew what his own plans were, and he knew how to implement them. The war council he had convened was a mere formality.

“I trust you all know that Baratheon is advancing at a steady pace through the Stormlands. His men are firmly in his pocket and they are relishing the duty they have been given.” Aerys said. Perhaps he should have toured the region more, but then again, he could not have known Steffon would die so early, or that his son would never be the man he had been. “Tarly’s defeat and injury and the defeat of Cafferen has meant Baratheon has faced no concerted effort at resistance. Connington, how many men did you say Baratheon had?”

Jon Connington, Lord of Griffin’s Roost, and Rhaegar’s friend, lover if some of the rumours were to be believed, though Aerys knew his son and knew he’d never go within ten feet of Connington’s bed let alone allow him into his own. The man had brought his own forces to the King at the King’s Wood somehow managing to bypass the Baratheon muster. Now his voice was soft and contemplative. “Twenty thousand men, at last count. The victories over Cafferen and Tarly would’ve depleted the numbers somewhat, but not enough to make Baratheon contemplate slowing down.”

Lord Rosby snorted. “I do not think that Baratheon knows how to slow down. Since coming back from the Vale, he has rallied the banners, forced marched them down to Summerhall, and then down to Ashford where he beat one of the best commanders the Reach has ever produced. I think he will keep going until he has achieved his aim.”

Aerys looked at Rosby, the man was permanently ill with some cold or cough, but here he seemed alive, his skin was not as pale as it usually was, and his eyes were moving with interest. Aerys did not trust him. “And what, pray tell, do you think his aim is?”

Here Rosby hesitated and for a moment, Aerys thought the old Rosby, the bumbling insincere fool would remerge, but instead came the words Aerys had thought himself, but had dreaded giving voice to. “I think he wants the crown, Your Majesty. Everything he has done suggests as much. He renounced his oath of fealty, he has mustered the banners behind the Stag only, not the Dragon and Stag as might have happened had he been rebelling to remove bad advisors. No, he wants the throne.”

“And you can be sure that Jon Arryn has put him up to that.” The Darling of the Vale said. Denys Arryn had arrived in King’s Landing a mere day after the letter denouncing him had come. Aerys had been quite surprised that Jon Arryn’s cousin would come, with his wife in tow, but from how he had explained it, he had learned things about Jon Arryn that had made his skin crawl. Aerys raised an eyebrow at the man and he elaborated. “Jon Arryn has always been the brains behind anything Robert has ever done. The time he went hunting on a piece of land owned by the Clans, that was done at Jon Arryn’s suggestion. It provoked a conflict with the Clans that Jon wanted, and it helped provide him with a reason to wipe them out.” Aerys grimaced, he remembered hearing about that, the destruction had not been pleasant. “The time Baratheon got involved in a fight with Royce, was done at Jon’s instigation. Royce had been getting loud about some grain produce or the other. Baratheon got into a fight with him, and he ended up paying full price, just as Jon wanted. Jon Arryn is the one controlling the war effort on the rebel side, he is merely making Robert think that he is in control.”

“What would you suggest then?” Aerys asked.  He knew what Denys Arryn wanted, even if the man had not given voice to it himself.

“I would suggest keeping an eye on Baratheon, but moving northwards to handle Jon. Jon is the greater threat, remove him, you remove the direction that Baratheon has. And once that direction is gone, Baratheon will be easily destroyed. He is not a commander, he is a fighter, he knows how to follow, not lead.” Denys responded.

“The fact he got Cafferen, Fell and Grandison all to support him after Summerhall would disagree with your view, Ser.” Lord Boiling said. “After all, how could he convince three of the most ardent royalist houses to side with him, especially as he killed one of their former heads, if he was not a good leader?”

Arryn was not flustered by this. “Oh, Baratheon is a good talker alright. He has always been able to convince potential enemies that they should be friends. That does not mean he is a good leader. He could convince them all he wants; he won’t deliver on the promises he has made them. For Baratheon, only cares for what he wants. Not what anyone else wants.”

Aerys suspected that Arryn had first-hand experience of that, and decided to keep that filed away for future reference. “Very well.” He said. “Now that we have got that sorted, I believe the time has come for us to discuss the state of the armies.” He paused, allowing his words to really sink in, once they had, he continued. “We have ten thousand men, or there about, we have been camped near Fawnton for roughly two weeks now. The surrounding villages are with us, and we have enough supplies to last us for another four weeks. However, I would rather not expend ourselves here when there is an entire war that needs fighting. Connington, where exactly is Baratheon?”

“Last our scouts saw of him; he was roughly a mile south of here. Near the Grassy Vale, a place where he has allies aplenty. His host is from what we have been able to gather split into three distinct battles. He commands the vanguard, and is always the first into battle, the left is commanded by Lord Estermont, a man who all know as a formidable warrior, and the right is commanded by Charles Dondarrion, the exiled heir to Blackhaven. Dondarrion has gathered quite the reputation for himself, I believe it was he who injured Tarly.” Aerys grimaced, how Dondarrion had escaped the purges of his and Swann’s house he did not know, but that was just one more thing that would need to be corrected before the war could end.

“Who commands the baggage train?” Arryn asked.

Connington snorted. “The baggage train is commanded by that old fool Lord William Wylde. The man is too slow to be of any use to anyone, and so he commands the baggage.”

“What is within the baggage train? What spoils did Baratheon steal from the Reach?” Aerys asked.

“Gold, silver, and enough food to last for three moons. It is quite the sizeable amount of things he has there.” Connington stated.

Aerys nodded. “Very well.” A pause as he considered the news he had been given. Then he spoke once more. “We must bring him toward open ground, if we fight in the bushes and woodland surrounding Fawnton we shall be finished. Baratheon would know that territory better than the rest of us. No, we must draw him to the open ground that is half a mile away from our camp, and we must make the march as soon as possible, preferably by today’s end. I want to make sure that we have enough time to prepare for battle as possible.”

“Would you wish to leave some men here, to hold onto Fawnton, Your Majesty?” Connington asked.

“I think we should put the garrison to the sword. The moment they hear their lord is returning they are like to try and betray us.” Arryn stated simply.

“They have done nothing but provide for us throughout the time we have been here!” Connington replied indignantly. “If we cut them down simply for who their lord is, what does that say about us?”

“It shows that we have a lick of sense.” Lord Staunton said. “We remove them before they can attack us from behind, and we show that the King has decided that traitors are not rewarded with a chance to continue their treachery.”

“Their lord is the one who has betrayed the King, not them!” Connington stated. “All they have done since we arrived is provided us with food and shelter. They have not listened into our conversations and they have allowed us to bring our own maesters in with us.”

It was at that point that Lord Hayford decided to speak. “Actually my lord, they have been plotting something against the crown.” He placed a letter down onto the table. “This was given to me recently. It shows the communication between the Maester of Fawnton, the Commander of the garrison and Lord Cafferen. They’ve been planning a surprise attack for when we least expect it.”

Aerys picked up the letter and read it. “When were you given this?” He asked, trying to decide whether the letter was genuine or something Hayford and his men had cooked up. The timing seemed a bit too convenient.

“Before we entered the meeting, Your Majesty. I’ve had my men keeping an eye on the Maester and we found this letter within his solar earlier today.” Hayford replied.

“And it took you till just now to mention this?” Connington asked, disbelievingly.

“Now was the right time to mention it.” Hayford replied defensively.

Aerys could not fault the man’s logic, but there was something about this entire thing that was nagging at him. It seemed almost too perfect. “Bring the maester to me.” He told Ser Gerold, the man nodded, got up and walked out of the room, he returned mere moments later with the Maester, who was an old man, bald and wrinkled. Aerys held up the letter. “Do you know what this is?”

“Yes.” The Maester replied. “It is the sign of my treason.”

That surprised Aerys, he had thought there would be more denial than that. “And why have you taken part in this treason?”

“Because my lord wished to keep informed of what was happening here, so that he might be able to plan accordingly.” The Maester replied his voice barely above a whisper.

“And what does your lord want?” Aerys asked.

“To serve.” The Maester replied.

“Have you responded?” Aerys asked.

“Not yet.” The Maester said.

“You will. Tell him that we are fortifying our position. If he has any sense he will tell Baratheon to hurry up and march toward us before we can do so. Do that, and I might just spare your life.” Aerys stated.

“Yes, Your Majesty.” The Maester said. Hightower let him go and he turned and walked away.

Aerys looked at his lords and said. “Prepare to leave. We shall be gone by the time this man has sent his letter.” He stood up and walked out of the room, Ser Gerold and Ser Gwayne following behind him. He walked back to his rooms, entered them and then ordered everything  packed and ready, he changed into armour, strapped Blackfyre to his person and then walked out to the courtyard, seeing everything loaded and ready he smiled. “We ride out to end this threat, once and for all.” The men cheered, and the gates were opened, he led the way out. As they rode out of Fawnton, he summoned his lords to him and stated. “Connington you have command of the left, Hayford the right, I shall take the van, and Rosby you control the baggage.” The lords nodded and departed to take control of their respective battles. Aerys rode forward, his Kingsguard behind him, the sense of anticipation grew.

It took them roughly half the day to reach the spot where the open fields sat. Aerys ordered the camp set up, he ordered trenches dug, and he orders spikes to be placed within. He would not make it easy for Baratheon. He chose the high ground for the staging point, knowing that it would give their archers an easier time of it. He had his men doing drills, he tried out his lance, getting accustomed to the feel of it. He kept his mind occupied. That was always important, grandfather had always said that preparing before a fight should mean not always thinking about the fight ahead, but reminding yourself of why you were fighting. That was what he did now. Aerys thought of Rhaella in King’s Landing, his wife, so proud and strong, he thought of his son, who was developing into a smart man, he thought of Shaena, his beautiful daughter, and he thought of his grandchildren, of Aegon and Rhaenys and the future they had before them. He thought of Daenerys his sweet girl, he smiled as he pictured the mischief she would be getting up to in Casterly Rock.  As the sun began to set, he ordered men to patrol the camp and keep watch.

It was the hour of the wolf when a man entered his tent and informed him that Baratheon had been spotted. He got dressed into his armour, and mounted his horse, his men all around him. Command of the vanguard was his right. Hightower and Gaunt and Selmy were at his side, there for protection and to kill as well. He took a breath, then nodded to Ser Roger Waters who held command of the archers. As the Baratheon infantry made their charge, the arrows were fired. One round took down a great many of the enemy, another round took down more. He nodded and Waters called a halt to the fire. Aerys took his lance in hand, said a prayer to the Seven and the horns of war sounded. Baratheon infantry and cavalry came charging up the hill, some were taken down by spears, some by the spikes in the pits. Those who came passed, he speared them with his lance. When his lance became useless he threw it to the side and drew his sword. Blackfyre gleamed in the light. It sang as it drank the blood of traitors.

He looked for Baratheon, knowing that one clash between them would determine the war. He cut down men wearing the Baratheon livery, he took a few blows to the chest and to the arms, but nothing too serious. Adrenaline meant he didn’t really feel the pain, but he knew he would should he survive this battle. Sweat was trickling down his face and his body. The armour was heavy on him, but he made it work. A swing here, a cut there, the men of Baratheon’s army were clearly tired, they had been forced marched here, and that would be their downfall. He took down a man bearing the arms of the Baratheons, the man had a silver brooch on his armour, depicting him as second in command. Aerys snorted, Baratheon would be close by.

A roar drew his attention. There charging at him was a man dressed in the Baratheon black and gold, a stag helmet on his head and a war hammer in his hand. Aerys watched the man approach, watched him knock down three men before Ser Barristan got in the way. Aerys watched as the two men duelled. Baratheon went low, and Selmy blocked, Baratheon went high, and Selmy blocked. Selmy counter attacked and Baratheon was left with dented armour. The fight continued, weaving this way and that, it was a fascinating spectacle to watch and Aerys wished he could’ve kept watching it, but the enemy was getting closer to him, and he needed to defend himself.

Men came bearing swords, axes, spears and maces and they all fell. Hightower and Gaunt cut them down and any who came passed them he cut down. He felt like singing, he could tell by the way the battle was going that they were winning. The left and the right were engaged as well, the left of the Baratheon host was fleeing back southwards, whilst the right was pushing forwards. He cut down another man, when a horn sounded. He looked and saw Baratheon retreating, the man was covered in blood and his armour was severely dented. He watched the enemy retreat and smirked. Once they were down the hill and out into the distance, he turned to Hightower and said. “Give it a moment, and then send word to Connington, I want them followed and I want to know exactly where they go.” Hightower nodded, and word was passed around. Aerys had gotten a taste of blood and he fully intended to get the next full meal.

 


	48. Lift Siege: Jaime X

They marched to the silent rhythm of men preparing for war. Dany rode with the baggage train, Jaime in the vanguard. His wife had several guards with her, and that was more to soothe his own mind than hers. At one point Dany, had talked of fighting in the battle herself, but Jaime had managed to dissuade her. His wife might know how to defend herself, but fighting in battle was a completely different thing. Jaime had never fought in a battle before, but he knew he’d be able to do it. Brightroar was strapped to his back, they would not be using lances here, there would not be enough time. Spears were prepared, and the archers were gathering pace also. He hummed the melody to a song Mother had sung to him once long ago. It helped soothe his nerves, though he knew that the true test would come the moment they crested down the hill.

They were twenty thousand strong, he commanded the vanguard, uncle Kevan commanded the right, Lord Crakehall the left, and the baggage was commanded and protected by Lord Banefort, who had brought his unusual troops to bear on the fight. Uncle Tygett was with him, at his side, a reassuring presence, Father had always said that Uncle Tygett was the best fighter to ever come from the Westerlands. He had heard tell of his uncle’s exploits during the War of the Ninepenny Kings and during the Reyne Rebellion, of how he had bathed the ground in blood on both occasions and barely been scratched himself. Jaime had been in awe of his uncle for a very long time, he supposed in some ways he still was.

His uncle looked at him and nodded as they rode down the hill. Jaime nodded back. “Prepare your spears.” Jaime called out. The spears rose as one. Their speed increased, the sense of anticipation grew. The rhythm in his head increased. He could see men wearing the colours of House Vypren going about their daily business. He knew the moment they realised what was happening, as they started shouting. But by then they were on them. Jaime’s spear felt light in his hand, he felt the impact of bodies being hit by the thing, one man, then another went flying, on the third he left the spear buried in the man’s neck and drew Brightroar. The sword glittered in the morning light, Jaime felt some measure of relief to have the thing in his hands. He had been practising with it, to better prepare himself for this very moment. Around him, his soldiers began removing the spears from their person and preparing for proper combat.

A man came barrelling toward him swinging a hammer. Jaime moved to the left as the man swung to his right. The man swung again and Jaime moved further to the left.  He swung with all his might and dented the man’s neck mail causing the man to grunt. Jaime pulled back and saw blood on his sword, he moved to the right and swung again, and put all of his strength into the next blow. This time the man fell, he didn’t get back up, though Jaime was not sure if he was dead or not. He spurred his horse onward, there was no time to wait and watch. Another man came into view, this one was a common solider, bearing a sword but no armour. As Jaime and he clashed, Jaime thought that it was quite dishonourable to fight a man who wore no armour whatsoever, but he knew that one had to do things such as this during war. They clashed, sparks flew, Jaime pushed into the blow and forced the man’s sword out, and followed through, slicing the man across his chest. He saw the moment the man realised he was finished, his eyes went wide and he slumped down.

Jaime felt momentarily as if he were going to be sick, but he pushed forward. More men came at him; some were armoured others were not. He took his time, Brightroar seemed to be doing most of the work. It acted on impulse, cutting, slashing and hacking, men fell crying, clutching parts of their body that had once been there but were now nothing more than ruins on the ground. That queasiness in his stomach did not disappear, if anything the longer the battle went on, it only got worse. He saw men being crushed under the sheer weight of force bearing down on them. He saw man being reduced to nothing under the blow of mounted men and weaponry. He heard men screaming and crying, for mercy or for loved ones who would never see them again. He saw boys no older than Tyrion fighting as squires and being reduced to a pile of bones. Somewhere deep inside, Jaime felt as though he were curled up into a ball, trying desperately not to let the outside world in.

Riverrun came into sight, the castle walls a towering mass of grey and silver blocks, he could see the leaping trout of House Tully flying proudly. He could see men on the walls firing arrows at the enemy. He had made sure to fly the banners of both House Targaryen and House Lannister as they had ridden down the hill, so that his own men would not be destroyed during the carnage by the Tullys. He had been told by Ned once long ago, of an army come to relieve an ally that had been destroyed because they had not done that. He saw a big towering figure of a man who wore a fancy cloak and had armour on which gleamed in the light. He imagined that this might well be Lord Vypren himself, the head of the House. If he could get to him, perhaps this could end.

From somewhere far beyond he heard someone yell. “The northmen are here as well!” Jaime smiled. “Ned.” He continued his charge, Vypren was dispatching westermen with practised ease. That could not be allowed to stand. Jaime pushed himself further and further to his limit, his body was aching and screaming for relief, but he had to ignore it for the time being. Brightroar roared in his ears as he came close to Vypren. The man looked at him and smirked. Wielding a mace, but wearing the barest amount of armour, Vypren swung. Jaime dodged and swung, the blade hit Vypren’s mace’s handle. They held on for a while before the weapons broke apart. Jaime swung and Vypren blocked, the sound of sword hitting mace jarring to Jaime’s ears. They held on and then broke apart.

Jaime moved to the side as Vypren swung, his horse moved as well, taking him out of range, he was behind Vypren and so he swung. It was not the honourable thing to do, but Jaime was quickly learning that in battle, honour did not really matter. Surviving did. His sword connected with the back of Vypren’s neck. The man grunted and swung his mace, it hit the horse’s leg causing the thing to neigh in pain. Jaime sensed that something might happen, but thankfully his horse remained upright. He swung again and managed to hit Vypren on the arm, cutting deep. Vypren grunted in pain. Vypren swung, the horse moved and Vypren got a mix of dust and blood in his face. Jaime sensed that his horse was going to be giving way sometime soon if the way it was staggering was any indication. Vypren swung again, and this time the horse did sink to its knees. Jaime threw Brightroar down to the ground, and hurriedly undid the straps keeping his feet in the stirrups, as the horse started to begin its descent down, he moved from the horse rolled, and felt the crushing weight of his armour. He came too, with his sword laying right next to him. He hurriedly grabbed it and got up.

Vypren moved toward him, a glint in his eyes, the man swung, Jaime just about managed to block the man’s swing. They remained locked in combat, both of them putting as much of their strength as they could muster into keeping their weapons pressed against one another. Jaime grunted with the effort, but managed to push Vypren’s mace away causing the man to fall back slightly. Jaime followed, swinging up, he cut Vypren in the face, the man yelled and brought his mace up and knocked Jaime back slightly. Vypren followed, swinging, Jaime blocked once, Vypren swung again, Jaime blocked, this time their weapons remained locked, his arms were shaking, his strength felt as if it were going to give way. Vypren kept pushing and so Jaime had to keep pushing back, but he was not sure if he had the energy to hold on for much longer.

Eventually they broke apart. Vypren staggered, Jaime pushed forward swinging right, left, he hit Vypren on both arms and then got him on his legs, he pushed up and left a deep cut on Vypren’s chest. The man’s stagger got more pronounced, his mace was held loosely, he looked as if he were drunk. The man lurched forward, Jaime’s sword was waiting for him, the sword slid right through him, Vypren grunted, blood spurted out of his wounds, Jaime stared at the man as he blinked and sputtered and whispered words that nobody could make sense of. Eventually, Jaime pulled his sword out of the man and watched as he slowly fell to the ground. Lying face down in the muck and grime. Jaime stood there, not quite sure what to do. Vypren was dead but all around him people continued to fight. He saw his Uncle Tygett take down three men one after the other, and it seemed as if it were no trouble for him whatsoever. He saw another man the size of a mountain cut down five men, all around him there was death and destruction, and nobody seemed to mind. Jaime wanted to yell at them to stop, he wanted to tell them that they didn’t need to fight anymore, but he doubted whether they would pay any attention to him.

Riverrun’s gates opened and Tully forces came charging out shouting their battle cries. Jaime watched nonplussed as the Tullys added to the bloodshed. A bloody path was carved through the rebels who had previously been laying siege to Riverrun. Boys were killed just as grown men were, there was no respite for anyone, the fighting continued unabated for several more moments, Jaime was not quite sure when it ended, but before he knew it, the rebels were throwing down their weapons and they were surrendering. Cheers went out throughout the battlefield. Jaime stood there and watched as the rebels were bound in chains, he watched as men hugged one another and celebrated victory. His uncle came and said something and he must have replied for before he knew it, he was riding into Riverrun, and words were being exchanged. He accepted Lord Edmure’s thanks, he said something about being happy to help an loyal vassal of the crown, and then they were being shown to their rooms. He took of his armour with help from his squires, but did not know what was happening.

He kept playing the image of the boy he had seen being cut down, and then being trampled over. He kept seeing Tyrion’s face on that boy, he kept seeing Tyrion being cut down. Jaime tried to blink and remove the image, but it was almost as if it were burned into his skin, he could not get rid of it. It remained fixed in his mind, refusing to go away. Before he knew what was happening, he was changed into a red and gold doublet with trousers and finely pressed shoes. The door opened and Dany entered, she threw herself into his arms and whispered. “Thank the Seven you are alright, my love. I was so worried.” Jaime does not know how to respond. Dany hugs him and he hugs her back.

Then when he can’t take it much longer he whispers. “Dany, I killed people today. I killed a boy.” The image plays in his mind and it won’t leave him alone.

Before his wife can reply, a messenger comes. “My lord, sorry to disturb you, but they are holding a war council.” Jaime nodded and kissed his wife before removing himself from her embrace, though every fibre of his being protests at that. He follows the messenger to the lord’s solar, and finds Edmure Tully, the Blackfish, Ned, uncle Tygett and several other men he does not know gathered in the room. He looked at them and took a deep breath, then the meeting began.

Edmure Tully was about two years younger than Jaime, he had a full head of curly auburn hair and the beginnings of a beard. His voice was deep, deeper than Jaime expected. “I want to thank you all for coming, and aiding us. You did not have to do that, but you did, and for that Riverrun will always be grateful.” Jaime and the other lords nodded. Tully continued. “A count of the dead has been taken. The rebels lost a good three quarters of their men, the rest are prisoners rotting within the cells of Riverrun, they shall be executed on the morrow. Their leaders Lord Vypren, Lord Vance and Walder Rivers are all dead now as well.”

Jaime looked up at the mention of Rivers. “Was Rivers leading a contingent of sellswords, or Frey men?”

“Freys, Jaime. Your cousin Cleos was one of the main supporters of the rebels.” Ned said softly. Jaime felt as if he had been gut punched.

“What happened to the Freys?” He asked, sensing that Ned would give him the full unblemished version as was his way.

“We marched south and asked for safe passage across. Cleos refused, stating we were siding with the wrong side and promptly demanding we either head back north or be prepared to do battle. The Twins stands as a ruin now, and House Frey is dead.” Ned said simply, though the look in his eyes was similar to the look he had had for months after Duskendale.

Jaime nodded. “I see.” He knew that that was a fair punishment, the Freys had been given far too many lives, and now they were gone. If Aunt Genna had been part of her son’s foolishness, then she deserved to die as well.

It seemed Uncle Tygett and Uncle Kevan shared his view, for they did not ask about Aunt Genna. Instead Uncle Kevan said. “With the rebels defeated here, we now must move southwards. Raventree Hall was under siege the last time we had heard news from anywhere but Riverrun. The Prince of Dragonstone had gone to relieve it, and I am sure he has done so by now, but we must make sure that we are there to aid him. Who knows what Arryn will do.”

Ned voiced his agreement. “I believe that Ser Kevan is right. Once things are put into better order here, we should leave. Fairmarket would make the most sense as a place to meet with Prince Rhaegar, if he has already sorted out the situation in Raventree Hall. If he has not, we shall march there and end the Brackens. It is important we prevent any and all support for Arryn within the Riverlands.”

Ser Brynden gave a wry laugh. “I think you might have a harder time achieving that, than you might imagine my lords. There are some great fools within the Riverlands who believe that Arryn and Baratheon are doing the right thing. I can tell you right now which houses will be siding with Arryn. Grell, Cox, Hawick, Blanetree, Deddings, Keath, Lolliston, Erenford and Smallwood. All of them believe that Arryn is doing the right thing by trying to prevent the implementation of the King’s reforms. They believed it during the reign of the King’s grandfather as well. They have had time to plan and prepare, and they will know that Fairmarket will be top on the list of priorities for us to seize. We must send a host there to protect it.”

Jaime wanted to scream, Fairmarket, a town that had a few old relics in it, it held no other value than those relics. The resources that could be channelled there could also be channelled to other places within the Riverlands, Maidenpool for example, yet everyone was obsessed with Fairmarket. He bit his tongue though and listened as Ned said. “I can take my army to Fairmarket to ensure that it is properly protected and fortified. I would imagine you wish to see to Riverrun and then to Raventree Hall, my lord.” Lord Edmure nodded and soon enough agreement was reached. The meeting ended, Jaime turned and left. He made his way back to his rooms, and found Dany there waiting for him. He hugged her tightly.

“I’m so glad you’re alright.” Dany whispered.

“I…I…” Jaime said unsure of what it was he wanted to say exactly.

Dany moved back and said. “Do you want to sleep my love?”

“Yes.” Jaime whispered.

His wife led him to the bed and said. “Then sleep.” Jaime lay on the bed, Dany nestled against him. “You have been so brave today, my love. Your father would be so very proud of you.” Jaime hummed.

“I love you.” He said.

His wife kissed him and whispered. “I love you too, and you will make an amazing father.” Jaime smiled, his wife’s words not really making sense to him as the drowsiness of sleep hit him.  His eyes closed, and as he slept he dreamed of children with his eyes but Dany’s hair, and he saw Dany laughing as their children ran around them playing some game or the other. He smiled at the sight, his heart filled to bursting. That was what he wanted, more than anything else in the world.

 


	49. Fairmarket: Ned XII

It rained the moment they left Riverrun. The water washed away the sins they had committed, the people they had killed. Their bodies were buried or burned. Or given to the river, chopped to pieces for the crows. Ned had done the deed for those who had fought for the north, for Father and for Brandon, he was not foolish enough to believe these men were fighting for him. Oh, knew they fought for him because he was their lord, but not because they cared for him.  He had proved himself during the destruction of the Twins, he knew that, and again during the battle for Riverrun, but these men did not know him. To counter that, Ned had started inviting men to ride with him at the front during their marches. He would speak to them, get to know them and give them an inkling about himself. It was working so far, at least he thought so. Today, Galbart Glover rode at his side, Glover was a man who was slightly older than Ned, had no children and no wife, but was a solid man, devoted and dedicated.

“Tell me Galbart, what is it about the Wolfswood that makes it so good for hunting?” Ned asked, it was a basic question, but he was intrigued to hear what Galbart would say.

“The Wolfswood has always been a place where people hunt, my lord, but more than that there are memories there. Memories buried within the trees and the ground and those who walk amongst them. Memories that remind us of what it means to be a man. It is that which I think is the most important thing about the Wolfswood. Without those memories, without that reminder of who we are, and why we are, I think we would forget, and then we would be no better than the monsters which haunt our nightmares.” Glover replied.

Ned thought on that, it was an interesting premise and different to what he’d heard from Lord Dustin, but then again Galbart Glover seemed like a man who thought about these sorts of things on a deeper level than any other man Ned had ever met. Ned was beginning to like the man. “And do you think there are things that need to be done to ensure that the Wolfswood never loses that splendour and that sense of belonging?” He knew that there had been times when the Glovers and the Forresters often felt as though they were balancing on the edge of tomorrow, and he wanted to show them that that was not the case. That they were present in the here and now, with him.

Glover said nothing for a time, and Ned had to look over at him, the man wore no helmet, but his face was a mask, like most northmen he knew how to disguise his thoughts and feelings. Eventually he spoke. “I think that the Wolfswood will continue as it is for a time. But we must ensure that we treat it with the respect it deserves, that we ensure that there are proper guards there to prevent unwarranted poaching. I know that the King has decided to send new guardsmen to the Wolfswood, and I wish to make sure they know what they are doing before they truly take up their post.”

“You wish to make sure they know the true importance of what it is they are doing.” Ned surmised.

“Yes my lord.” Galbart replied honestly. “The previous guardians were good, but they did not always know what it was they were meant to be looking for. Consequently, there was a lot of unwanted and unneeded poaching on the lands that hurt the natural lay out of the Wolfswood. I wish to make sure that that never happens again.”

“A reasonable desire.” Ned agreed. “I will make sure of that.” Galbart inclined his head and they fell to silence once more. The rain came down in a steady patter, it was not the brutal torrential downpour that it could have been, but Ned suspected that that was on the cards somewhere down the line. There would be much that would need to be done once they took Fairmarket. He knew that perhaps his confidence might be slightly misplaced but how could they not take Fairmarket? He had read through the write up for the town that had been found in Riverrun, he knew the weak points in the walls, where the Tullys had deliberately given lax defence to ensure that whoever held the town could never go against them directly. Fairmarket had been built during the reign of the Fisher Kings and had served as their capital, before they had died out. The Justmans had used it as their capital for a time, and then it had fallen to disrepair. The Hoares had given it to some bannerman or the other, and they had used it as a stop gap to link with the Trident. There were documents of great value there, that could make or break this rebellion that Arryn was waging and the King wanted those documents within his possession before Arryn could get them.  He had been surprised that none of the northmen had asked him why they were embarking on this journey. But Ned had been quick to learn that his bannermen were not the most inquisitive of people. And it was that lack of inquisitiveness that had held them back, and kept the North where it was.

Just as the downpour started to get heavier, to the point it was clanging off his armour, Glover spoke. A question in his voice. “Why are we heading to Fairmarket my lord? I know that there is something there that the King wants, but truly, if Arryn is going to invade the Riverlands he will come through Darry and head south. He needs to head south to link with Baratheon and his other allies, so what is it we are looking for?”

Ned hesitated, he did not know just how much to tell Glover, but he knew that outright lying would not go down well whatsoever. He took a breath and then said. “We are looking for something that would help Arryn justify his rebellion, something that was searched for by those who rebelled against King Aegon the Fortunate, and as such we are to find it and keep it for the Prince of Dragonstone to decide what to do with.”

“I see. We are going to be assaulting a town that is almost as old as Winterfell, for a document. An interesting use of resources.” Glover replied.

Ned felt like snapping at the man, these people did not understand anything beyond their own petty grievances. He had never thought of it before, but really he could understand why the North had stagnated. The northern lords were not concerned about writing or recording history, they merely lived it and moved on. They did not take time to think about what the significance of the events that occurred before their very eyes were, they just accepted them and moved on. They continued to make mistakes because they had not learned from the past. He knew he would have a mountain to climb once this war was done, but he would start climbing now. “That document could lend legitimacy to Arryn’s claim for it was written during the Conquest, by Aegon the Conqueror. Nobody quite knows what is on it, but Arryn and the rebels before him claim that in it the Conqueror wrote a charter stating what he could and could not do and he agreed before the High Septon that this document would be binding. Arryn and those like him believe that this document was suppressed by his descendants and by the Conqueror himself, so as to not limit what he could do. If Arryn finds this document, he will use it to try and handicap the King. The reforms that must be made to make Westeros united will stop, and the war will continue. Is that something you want?” Ned suspected his tone was harsh, but he did not quite care, this narrowmindedness that the northmen espoused had to be removed.

Surprisingly Glover laughed. “I understand why we are getting this document, my lord. But you must admit that it is an interesting thing to have to go and get. Some of the other lords might not understand this if you were to explain it to them. It would be better for them to think of Fairmarket as a town of strategic value due to the resources that are clearly there within it.”

“We cannot continue with this blind apathy toward anything written, Galbart. That is what has been hindering the north. We are refusing to learn from history, from what our ancestors did. Half the lords of the north want to remain isolated from the rest of the realm, they want nothing to do with the world outside their own little holdfast or castle. That is not acceptable. We are a land that is almost as big as the other six lands combined. We have enough political capital to make a difference. We should try to use that to make the lands a better place. Hiding within our lands will do us no good.” Ned said passionately.

“I agree my lord. We are missing the tide as it sweeps in. I have known this for some time, as did your father. But you must see why the northern lords are so slow to react. They take their lead from Winterfell, they always have done. For centuries Winterfell was not interested in anything other than the north. Cregan Stark went south and governed as Hand of the King for one day and returned after that, disgusted with everything and anything southern and that was the attitude that his descendants until your father took. Consequently, the northern lords have gotten use to Winterfell showing no interest in the lands beyond the neck. They acted surprised when your father betrothed Brandon to Catelyn Tully, and they resented that. They were not happy because they felt as though the course was changing and they did not like it whatsoever. We are a slow bunch to adapt, but should you lead from the front, they will follow. Because they will not want to be left behind.” Galbart stated.

Ned was surprised, he had not thought that Galbart was that much of an observational man, clearly he had been wrong. Still there was a nagging thought at the back of his mind that refused to leave. “I appreciate that, but I worry that should they do it merely because I am doing it they will come to resent me, and that will do nobody within the north any good. We must work together, not against one another.”

Galbart laughed, and with the rain thundering down now, it sounded as if it were part of the encompassing arrangement. “Oh, my lord, the northern lords will grumble regardless of whether they agree with you or not. But this is something you must remember; all are fanatically loyal to Winterfell. It is that loyalty that you must play on. Tell them Winterfell and Lord Stark commands them to adapt, and they will. Tell them that Eddard Stark wants them to adapt and they will laugh at you. You must remember one thing, the north are slaves to Winterfell, and so long as it is Winterfell who tells them what to do, they will do it.”

Ned contemplated this, thinking it odd how Galbart had spoken, softly he asked. “Does that include you as well my lord?”

Without a minute’s hesitation Glover nodded. “Yes. But I have come to respect you as well my lord, consequently, if you asked me to adapt, I would.” Ned digested that and they did not speak for the remainder of the journey. Fairmarket came into view sometime later, a town with great walls, but with noticeable chips and cracks, a sign of a town with walls in desperate need of repair.

Ned stopped before the walls and called out. “I am Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North. I come on orders of His Majesty, King Aerys Targaryen, open the gates and we shall spare you.”

A portly man stepped forward and said. “I cannot do that.”

“And why cannot you open the gates of the King’s town, to men serving the King?” Ned demanded.

The man shifted from foot to foot. “I am not at liberty to respond. All you need know is that you are not going to enter this town so long as I am here.”

Ned bristled, but before he could respond, Galbart Glover spoke. “If you are not at liberty to respond, then you are traitor. You fly banners of Deddings, Erenford, Smallwood and Haigh, all houses known to have joined with Arryn in his rebellion. Tell me, do you always consent to the presence of traitors within your midst?”

It was a bold move, one that might not work, but thankfully it did for the man on the wall spat down and snarled. “They are protecting our ancient right to live. More so than can be said about a lot of barbaric northmen on our gates. You will have to take this town by force.”

“Then we shall.” Ned said. “Prepare the battering ram.” Ned moved his horse back and watched as several men dressed in the grey of Winterfell approached, carrying the ram. Ned looked up at the walls and saw that the portly man was still there. As the men brought the ram close to the gates, Ned called out. “This is your last chance, open the gates and you will not need to suffer through this.”

The man laughed. “Do your worst, traitor.” He turned and walked away.

Ned sighed. “Attack.” The ram moved forward and hit the gate, Ned saw it shudder. “Again.” The ram hit the gate, and it shuddered, something came loose flying passed. “Again.” On the third time the gate flew open. At the same time, the gates on other parts of the town did the same. Ned took a breath, then spurred his horse forward through the gates, wondering as he did so where the archers for the town were. He drew Ice, wielding it in both hands and as the first men came barrelling toward him, he swung. The men went flying, or rather their arms and their bodies did. He pushed forward, more men came.

These men bore sigils on their armour that he did not recognise, a burning man, a flaming torch, a giant breaking through a castle wall, and a hawk blue as the sky, all sigils he had never seen in any book on the houses of Westeros. Then again the houses garrisoned here were not exactly notable. These men fought with a ferocity that their fellow rebels at the Twins and Riverrun had not though. There was passion in the way they swung their weapons, when Ned swung they blocked or moved and they came at him with fire in their eyes. It was a good experience. Or as good as fighting with your life on the line could be. Ice got much done, she dented armour, she broke mail and removed hands. Ned could feel sweat pooling down around him, his men were fighting for every inch. The town was big, but not so big that they couldn’t span out.

 They needed to get to the centre tower, where the library was kept, if they could get there, then this fighting would stop and the town would need to surrender. For a brief moment, he feared that these rebels had already found the document and as such were fighting to protect it. As he cut down a boy who was no older than Benjen, he dismissed that notion. If these fools had truly found the document, then they would have been barking it from the heavens. The spy they had captured on their way from Riverrun early on had told them that that was what the rebels had been instructed to do. Though the more he thought about it, the more he wondered whether that was just a misdirect to confuse them. He shrugged the thought away, he could worry about it later. For now, he resumed trying to avoid death. His blade cut through armour, it cut through steel, bodies littered the ground, his breathing sounded heavy and laboured to his own ears.

“Clear these bodies out of the way.” He barked to someone, the bodies needed to be removed otherwise they’d be trapped in an insurmountable push and crush, and that would not end well, he remembered reading about what had happened at the Battle of Saltpans, and he was determined not to let that happen here.

Slowly, single file became double file as the enemy melted away, either dead or wounded or surrendered. Ned fought the urge to throw up as he smelt the bodies that were wounded or dying. He blinked fiercely, grateful for the helmet which covered his face. He saw the tower, dark and foreboding and spurred his horse forward, his men rushed forward as well, helping to open the doors, he rode up the steps and then through the doorway and into the tower itself. His men followed him, he rode until he came to main hall and stopped. He found the portly man there standing waiting. “Your town has been taken.” Ned said. “Surrender and you might live.”

The man looked at him his lip curled into a snarl. “You will never find what it is you seek.”

“Surrender and live, or die. The choice is yours.” Ned stated.

The man laughed. “Kill me, go on, traitor. You are bending the knee to a mad man anyway. Do it, go on show me the killer you are.”

Ned sighed, dismounted and said. “In the name of His Majesty, King Aerys Targaryen, second of that name, King of the First Men, the Andals and the Rhoynar, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, Lord Protector of the Realm, I do pronounce you dead by treason.” He drew Ice and speared it into the man’s throat. The man gargled and spat blood and then stopped making noise. He slumped to the ground. Ned pulled Ice out before he hit the floor. Ned turned to his men and said. “Search this room and the library, I want that document found.” His men nodded and hurried off to do as bid. Ned looked at the other men gathered in the room, bloodied and mud stained. “Remove the banners, and fly the Targaryen banners.” They hurried out to do just that and Ned turned back to stare at the man, sighing at another needless death.

 

 


	50. Mania: Rhaegar IV

Nestor Royce had given them very little information. He’d admitted to leading a scouting party, he’d admitted that Jon Arryn was on the march but he had said little else. He had refused any offer of pardon and release, insisting that what he was doing was for the right, and that he would never bend to a tyrant. Rhaegar had had no choice but to order him executed. His head now decorated a spike atop the walls of Raventree Hall. It was a sad state of affairs, Rhaegar had written to the man’s wife and family expressing his condolences, but he doubted that he would get a response. For some reason that thought added an extra burden to his shoulders. Despite his best efforts, Rhaegar could not shake that feeling. It wasn’t guilt, for he had nothing to feel guilty about, but it was something and it was beginning to nag at him.

They’d ridden through the dark and the torrents, for Fairmarket, and had met the Lannister and Tully hosts on their way. Jaime had informed them of what had happened at the Twins, of Cleos Frey’s refusal to bend and see sense, of Eddard’s stern treatment of the man, of the battle at Riverrun, of the death of Lord Vypren. Stark was at Fairmarket, looking for the information as Rhaegar had asked him to. Rhaegar had ordered them all to ride for Fairmarket, for strategic reasons, and to find the document. The document that might well add legitimacy for Arryn or remove it completely. Fairmarket was an intriguing town, with great brown walls and stone structures that towered above everything else. The banners of the Targaryen dynasty flew proudly on the walls, but there was a sense that tension was growing under the surface.

“Deddings, Erenford, Haigh and Charlton, all had men here, all had men stationed here, looking for Arryn’s document, to prove something that could never been proven.” Rhaegar whispered to himself. Their bodies had been burned, the ash providing fuel for the rooms within the tower. Their heads rested atop spikes on the walls. “Their lords abandoned them to this fate.” Rhaegar stated, Deddings, Erenford and Haigh had never actually been here themselves. Their deputies had not even been here. He did not know where they were, and it was nagging at him. “How many men did Lord Edmure say that those three could bring together?”

“Four thousand between them, my Prince.” Ser Arthur replied.

“Four thousand men, how many men were here?” Rhaegar asked.

“One thousand between the four houses.” Ser Arthur stated.

“One thousand men who refused to surrender and see sense.” Rhaegar mused. He had not been there for the battle, but he could imagine what the scene had looked like. Fairmarket’s streets were slim, the pathways were still stained with blood and all kinds of other things, despite the weeks that had gone by. If he closed his eyes, Rhaegar could hear the screams, the roar of battle, the steel clanging against steel, the hot breath of men knowing they were going to either die or live within the next few moments. Rhaegar did not want to revisit the ghosts, but they refused to go away. They refused to let him rest, they kept him up at night, they whispered in his ear, trying to push him over the edge. He rubbed his eyes. “Tell me, what makes a man want to turn traitor?” It was an empty question; Arthur would not know.

To his surprise, it was Oswell who answered, the Black Bat of Harrenhal very rarely answered or spoke anymore. “Traitors are formed out of desperation, my prince. These men are clearly the most desperate type of person, for they are willing to sacrifice their honour for something that could never be. They have an illness, and that illness is slowly taking over their every aspect and their every mind, corrupting them and turning them into fools.”

“You do not think that they regretted what they were doing?” Rhaegar asked. For some reason, he needed to know the answer to this. He wanted the guilt that gnawed away at him to leave, he wanted to know that what needed to be done was the right thing to do. That it wouldn’t leave him rotting inside.

“I think that they were too far gone to think of regret. I think they were pressing through for what they considered the greater good. I do not think they really knew who they were anymore. They had never tried to think outside the lines. The lines that they themselves had drawn long ago. I think men such as Deddings want something to lead them, they don’t care what it is, they merely need it. Arryn has provided it, and so they follow blindly.” Whent stated.

That didn’t quite make him feel better. Instead it added to his concerns. “Did we do something wrong? Did we push them away with the desire to make the world better?”

Oswell came to stand before him, his eyes intent. “No, never think that, my Prince. Never think that the foolish whims of men such as Deddings or Erenford could come from some wrong that you did. They are the type of people who will blindly follow, they have always been that way. They chose Arryn because he suited their purpose. The crown has always done what it could to help the Riverlands. Never forget that. You extended the hand of friendship, of trust, and they spat at you, and turned their heads away. Never forget that.”

Rhaegar took a shuddering breath, he could see what Oswell meant, but the gnawing sensation would not leave. It grew stronger. “I know that. I know that there is some truth to what you say Oswell, truly I do. But I feel as though I failed. I feel as though I should have done more to make sure that they never considered turning the other way. I know that I couldn’t have done more than I did, but I think that there will always be something inside me that regrets this. Does that make me weak?” He did not know why he was asking this of the Kingsguard before him. He thought that it was foolish, to think like this, to feel like this. But his skin was burning, his inside was crawling with rot and he wanted to know why.

“No, Your Royal Highness.” Oswell said vehemently. “Any man who tells you otherwise is a fool who does not know what it means to command. You bear a great burden, Sire. You are the Prince of Dragonstone; you are the heir to the throne. The people who fight for you and the people who fight against you are all your people. They are your children, they are your friends and your family, of course you would feel as though there is more you could still do. You are a good man, Your Royal Highness. You care for the people, you always have. Caring does not make you weak. It shows that you are a person, a person who has much to offer and much to fight for. Wanting to show the people the right way, to want to keep fighting for them even when they would turn their back to you and make you seem the villain is not weak. That is the greatest strength that anyone could ever exhibit. It is easy to hate; it is easy to give into revenge. It takes strength to want to help those who are trying to push everything over the ledge, to help them see that the way they are doing things is not right, that they can still be saved. You are not weak, my prince, you are strong, stronger than I, or any other man here.”

“And this pain, this pain I feel, whenever I think of having to kill more men, of having to harm those that I swore to protect, what does that make me?” Rhaegar asked, the rot was growing not lessening, was there something wrong with him?

“It makes you human, Sire. You are a Targaryen, but you are also a man. And men have always struggled with war, with the emotions that war elicits. There is nothing wrong with feeling regret, with feeling pain with doing what you will have to do during this war. If you did not, then that would be cause for concern. You cannot let it consume you though, Sire. If you let it consume you, you will be lost. There is only darkness in consumption, and that darkness is not one that you can get out of.” Oswell said.

Rhaegar thought over this for a time, and then nodded. “You are right, thank you Oswell.” The knight bowed his head. Rhaegar turned his attention back to the books before him and read through them. There were pages upon pages of information about things that did not make sense. About dragons and something called wights, about death that walked, about the ever-coming night, Rhaegar ignored them, they were not what he was looking for just now, he needed information on this document. He put another book to the side, frustration growing, it seemed that there would be no immediate solution. “You’d think with being a centre for learning, this place would have more actual books and less fairy tales.” Rhaegar snarled. Neither Kingsguard knight said anything and so Rhaegar picked up another book and read through it. This one was about the Blackfyre rebellion and about contracts and taxes and the issue of charters. As he scanned through it he stopped and said. “Aha!” He read through the relevant passage again. “There was discussion between Daemon Blackfyre and Aegor Rivers on the eve of Redgrass Field. The discovery of the charter dated to the reign of Aegon the Conqueror provoked much worry and concern in Blackfyre, for he felt that if its contents were revealed their supporters would push for that and Blackfyre was never one for compromising on royal prerogative be it his father’s or his own imagined prerogative. Consequently, the document was suppressed and handed to another bastard son of Aegon the Unworthy who was told to secret it off to a town where the markets were fair and the women beautiful, this bastard was told to ensure that the document was kept within the secret archives never to be seen again. It has not been seen since.”

Rhaegar mused over this, looked at who had written the book and sighed. “Written by Maester Lorton. A man who was no supporter of my great-grandfather.” He put the book to the side and picked up another one. Before he started reading he looked at Oswell and asked. “How has Stark gotten on with finding the document?” When they had arrived Stark’s progress had been limited, similarly to Rhaegar’s now, nothing more than obscure mention in books, but no leads. He hoped the man had found more since then, but his hopes weren’t high.

“Nothing more than the last time, Sire.” Ser Oswell replied.

Rhaegar nodded, opened this new book and read through it.  A lot was on the conquest, and then as he turned a page, a document was there staring him in the face. He picked it up and read. _Duties of a Ruler, By His Majesty Aegon Targaryen, King of Westeros._ He felt excitement grow inside him. He started reading and his heart soared, Arryn was wrong, there was no limitation, there was nothing wrong with the way Father had gone about his business, this document was legal proof of that. His excitement stopped though when a realisation hit him. Why had this document been kept here, in this book? Why had it not been brought to King’s Landing? Aegon Targaryen’s title was King of the Andals, the First Men and Rhoynar, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, not King of Westeros. Was this some early draft, or a forgery? He read through the document again, uncertainty and a desire to be right battling inside him. Eventually he reached a decision. “Oswell, bring me the box.” The black bat of Harrenhal placed a small box before him on the table. He opened the box and put the document inside it, then locked the box. “Keep this box within the chest.” He said handing it over to Oswell who did as bid. Nobody but he and Oswell and Arthur had access to the chest, and only he knew where the box would go once the chest was done with it. Neither knight asked him what he had found, but they could guess. He calmed himself. “Summon the lords, we have a war council to convene.” He said, his decision reached. If this was the real thing then they were right, and Arryn was wrong. If it wasn’t then they would need to keep looking. Either way, the matter would be solved with steel now, he could see that clearly. It pained him, but he was not afraid, not anymore.

He got up, the two knights following before Oswell told a page to summon the other lords, and he made his way over to the man solar within the tower. He opened it and sat down in the lord’s chair. There had been no lord in Fairmarket since the reign of Harren the Black, and Rhaegar was determined to keep it that way. To have so much knowledge and therefore power for anyone not the royal family was dangerous. The lords filed in and bowed before sitting down. Rhaegar looked at them all in turn, concern, tiredness and anxiousness were all present. He took a breath, forcing the document to the back of his mind. “How hold the Riverlands?” He asked looking at Lord Edmure.

“Secure. Those who sided with Bracken are either dead, fled or have been imprisoned. All we need now is permission to take their lands and we are sorted.” Lord Edmure said.

“That will come in time, for now we must prevent Arryn from linking with Baratheon. We know that Nestor Royce was sent ahead as a scouting party. Ser Brynden what word do your scouts have for us?” Rhaegar replied. Lord Edmure did not seem happy about this but he let it go.

“There has been movement on the southern edges, the High Road has been active, but nothing too serious. It seems that Arryn is looking for other ways to make his entrance. That or he will be sending individual parts of the army through as it goes. I think we should expect a host to approach Fairmarket soon enough.” Ser Brynden responded.

“I think we should send men to guard the fords. Protect them we cut off any chance for Arryn developing a supply line through the boats that Deddings and Erenford might well try to use.” Eddard said.

“I agree.” Lord Edmure stated. “I think that the more time we spend here, the less time we will have to truly ensure that the fords and the other contact points are guarded. Furthermore, I am still having a hard time understanding why Arryn would come here instead of marching straight for King’s Landing.”

Rhaegar said nothing, instead he allowed Lord Rykker to speak for him. “Fairmarket has a great many resources, both financial and legal that could aid Arryn in his desire to make the crown see his point of view. Consequently, the more time we spend here, the more time we have to consolidate our hold here, and ensure the people here remain loyal and do not turn.”

“But do we all need to be here?” Lord Edmure asked. “There is much and more that needs to be done in the Riverlands. I cannot stay here waiting for something that might or might not happen.”

Rhaegar spoke before Rykker or anyone else could lambast Tully, the man was right after all. “And you shall not be remaining within Fairmarket forever. No, I intend to send you to guard the fords my lord.” Lord Edmure seemed surprised and Rhaegar smirked. “My lord, you want to help rebuild the Riverlands, and you want to get revenge on those that have caused such devastation to your home and your family. I understand that. Therefore, you shall get the first chance to fight these traitors as they come.”

Lord Edmure shared a glance with his uncle, and Rhaegar knew that when this council was done, the two men would be discussing how to go about this. Lord Edmure looked back at him and lowered his head. “I am honoured, Sire.”

Rhaegar nodded, then glanced at Jaime and then back at Edmure. “I also want you to confirm your betrothal to Lady Cersei Lannister.” Both Jaime and Edmure’s eyes widened at this and Rhaegar laughed. “What sort of Prince would I be if I did not know of this.” He turned to look at Eddard. “And what have you decided about your sister, who is she to marry?”

“Ser Willas, Your Royal Highness.” Eddard replied.

“Good. He has started earning his stripes in the fighting in the reach.” Rhaegar said. “I shall send word to the King. Now, Lord Crakehall why don’t you give us all information about what is happening within the Reach.”

The man took a breath then answered. “There have been several battles within the Reach between those loyal to the crown and those allied with Arryn. Lord Tyrell has managed to win two battles, whilst the Florents who are Arryn’s main supporters have won two battles. Lord Tarly barely recovered from the injury he took at Ashford before he was back commanding again. This time he has been captured by the Florents, however, Ser Willas has taken the fold of commander and has ensured that the Florents failed to take Horn Hill, indeed Lord Florent himself was slain during the fighting.”

Rhaegar nodded. “The Reach can muster eighty thousand men united, divided I do not know how many men it could bring to the table. Consequently, we must protect the southern edges of the land as well.” There was a pause and he looked around the room before his gaze settled on Jaime. “Lord Lannister, take your best men and ride southwards for the Stoney Sept garrison that town and prepare for any who might venture northwards. And should you meet the Florent host, kill their lords and their knights.”

“Yes Sire.” Jaime replied.

“Good, this meeting is at an end.” Rhaegar said standing up and nodding to the lords, he then moved out of the room and ventured back to his own where he opened the chest and got the box out, took the document out and read it again. Debating whether this was authentic or not.

 

 


	51. The Threat Is Real: Aerys II

****

Winter was approaching, at least that was how it appeared as the snow began to fall on the ground. White covering green and brown. Blood would show much more clearly now, that brought a wry laugh from Aerys. The King of the Seven Kingdoms browsed through the letters which a page had brought him and sighed. There would be much and more to do before this war was won. Rhaegar held Fairmarket, which was good but whether or not the boy had found the document that could prove their undoing or Arryn’s undoing remained unclear. He hoped that there was no document, everything he had read about this thing suggested it was an invention by Lord Peake long ago, to try and discredit something that King Aegon the Unlucky had tried to do. Or rather his regency council. But there were mentions of it before, during the Dance and during the reign of the Old King, but those sources never mentioned it by name, merely by description. It could be fake, and Aerys hoped it was, he did not want to have to handle such nonsense. He looked at another letter which had come, written in the language he and Rhaella had developed as children and sighed again. Grief lay heavy, his grandson was dead, the fever and the illness which had hit him during the earliest days of the year had finally come to take him away. His son was now left with only Rhaenys as his heir, and with the way this war was going that would not be good enough. A part of Aerys was tempted to order Rhaegar to return to King’s Landing to sire an heir and then return to the field, but he knew what sort of message that would send. So, instead he contemplated ordering Shaena to join Rhaegar but decided against that as well.

Aerys looked away from the letters, and breathed a sigh of relief as they were taken and burned, so that none but he could know their contents. He assessed the men before him, they were all filled with a sort of tension in their shoulders that came from war and the stress of countless sleepless nights. “Connington, word from the scouts?” Since their first fight with Baratheon, there had been another battle, this one against forces commanded by Lord Estermont, they had won that fight and destroyed Estermont’s host and his supplies. Depriving Baratheon of much needed respite. Baratheon had continued marching north though, as if he were a man possessed.

“Baratheon continues to march toward Tumbleton. It seems as though he has decided that that is a much more worthwhile venture than taking any sort of chance at King’s Landing. It seems he has some brains within that skull of his. He knows that if he tries to ride for the capital, with us on his tail he will be beaten against the walls and destroyed. He continues to attempt to link with the forces Jon Arryn will send into the Riverlands.” Connington replied.

“And where are the forces of Jon Arryn?” Aerys asked, so far the reports he had heard suggested that Arryn had not yet even ventured into the Riverlands, apart from a small host of two thousand men he had sent toward Raventree Hall, there had been sighting of Valemen. Aerys was beginning to wonder if the man would ever bother showing or if this was all just a ruse.

“As far as the scouts and our sources can tell, they remain grouped within the Vale. Other than the force His Royal Highness, the Prince of Dragonstone fought at Raventree Hall no other force has come forward to fight them.” Connington stated.

Denys Arryn would had given a very good account of himself at the Battle of Fawnton and also the Battle of the Streams spoke then. “It is a trap, Your Majesty. Jon Arryn is trying desperately to give the impression that he is dithering. Really he is waiting for His Royal Highness, the Prince of Dragonstone to split his force and then he will move in from above and try something. It is a strategy he used against the Mountain Clans to great success, in fact I would not be surprised if he had the mountain clans fighting for him now.”

“Now wouldn’t that be something.” Lord Hayford snorted. “Savages fighting alongside the men who had previously been hunting them down like dogs. Why would such a thing happen?”

Aerys looked at Denys to see what he would say; he was not shy in responding. “Because the men of the Mountain Clans hold allegiance only to themselves and to the gold that they can be paid. Arryn has gold from the trade with the Free Cities, he knows more about them than they do about him, and he knows how to play on their basic instincts. No doubt he will be promising them the riches and plunder of the Riverlands for siding with him.” Arryn looked at him and said. “They are dangerous men, Your Majesty, they are some of the finest fighters present in Westeros. They will not stop until every man they come across is dead.”

Aerys nodded, though he harboured his doubts as to whether or not Arryn could be trusted. He turned to Lord Bar Emmon and said. “You know the terrain here better than most, my lord, what would you think of doing if you were Robert Baratheon?”

Bar Emmon was a man who though he looked like a cow had shat him out, had brains and wit, and a common sense that some lords deeply lacked. “I would not ride for King’s Landing. That would be far too obvious, and as you mentioned, Your Majesty, if I did so, I would be ramrodded between the city and the army on my back. No instead I would make for somewhere else, somewhere where I would dictate the terms of engagement and where there would no chance of being surrounded and cut off.”

“In other words, you would make for Tumbleton?” Aerys queried.

“Yes, Your Majesty.” Bar Emmon stated. “Tumbleton has no proper walls, it has open fields, and plenty of places for the archers of the Stormlands to wreak havoc from. The wind there can make things unpredictable, and with it beginning to snow as well, that will make the heavy charges our cavalry favours, an irrelevancy.”

“And how would you, if you were command try to make sure that Baratheon did not get to use these conditions in his favour?” Aerys asked. Bar Emmon had a sharp mind and with the way things were progressing, Aerys hoped that if they could pen Baratheon into close quarters they could perhaps win and prevent the chaos from escalating further.

Bar Emmon was quiet for a moment, his brows scrunched in concentration, then he said. “I would send a small force of men ahead of the main body, on orders of a forced march. I would order this force to attack the rear of Baratheon’s host and tell them to kill as many men as possible. They would serve as a distraction, forcing Baratheon to risk losing face or to lose precious time in making toward Tumbleton. One would need to gamble on Baratheon having too much pride to keep riding. But it is a risk I believe worth taking.”

Aerys nodded his thanks, and waited a second, as expected, Connington spoke. “Whilst Lord Bar Emmon speaks sense, Your Majesty, I must urge caution. Baratheon might appear hot headed and without almost a lick of sense, but so far in the battles we have fought against him and in the battles, he has fought he has displayed a caution that previously we thought was unknown to him. To gamble everything on him doing something that might be completely irrational at this stage in the war is not something I think we should do.”

“Would you leave it for him to come and find us then? As he did at Fawnton?” Lord Blunt demanded. “Would you have us sitting on our hands? Or would you have us marching into a slaughter?”

Blount was not the most courageous of men, and Aerys often found himself quite annoyed by the man, but in this case, he was speaking sense. Aerys had no desire to allow Baratheon to catch them again, nor did he have any desire to lead his men into a slaughter. If he could stop Baratheon before he got to Tumbleton then that would be for the better. Connington did not reply immediately, instead he hummed and ahhed and then he spoke. “I am merely suggesting what I think is a reasonable course of action. The final choice lies with His Majesty, the King.”

All eyes turned to him then, to assess what he would say and how he would say it. Aerys took a moment to consider everything that had been laid out before him. He was terrified of Baratheon getting ahead and getting to Tumbleton and setting up a confrontation that they could not hope to win. But he was also terrified of Baratheon turning around and fighting them as they were now. Logic dictated they force Baratheon to make a mistake. He took a breath and replied. “Lord Bar Emmon you shall you shall command the party, take six hundred of your best men and ride north as quickly as you can. Engage with Baratheon’s rear and ensure to make it so that Baratheon himself is drawn out into the fray. If you get the chance kill him.” Bar Emmon nodded and Aerys stood. “This meeting is dismissed.” The men filed out of the tent, Aerys waited until they were all gone before looking at Ser Gerold Hightower, the Lord Commander of his Kingsguard. “The letters were all burned?”

“Yes Your Majesty.” Hightower replied. Hightower had joined the Kingsguard when Aerys was but a babe, he had served well during the reigns of Aerys grandfather and father, and had more than earned his stripes as Lord Commander. The second son of Lord Boremund Hightower a towering giant of a man who had been grandfather’s staunchest supporter through everything. Aerys nodded, moved from the tent to his own and prepared for battle. His armour was placed on him by his squires, he moved around once it was on, to get acquainted with it once more. He rolled his shoulders, he kneeled, he used the motions for fighting. The armour fit well, as he had always known it would. There was just a faint trace of the battles that had come before in small scratches nobody else but he could see.

Bar Emmon came before him and bowed. “I wish you well on your journey, my lord.” Aerys said. Bar Emmon gave his thanks and promised to do all he could to deliver victory. Emmon got up and left, and Aerys watched as six hundred men rode off with him. He turned back to his Kingsguard and told them all in the confines of his tent. “Should I die during the battle that is to come and should you live, I want two of you to go to my son and inform him of what has happened, I want you to take the army with you. I want one of you to return to King’s Landing to protect my wife and daughter and granddaughter. Do you understand me?”

“Yes Your Majesty.” All three Kingsguard replied, bending the knee and swearing the oaths they had once sworn long ago. Once that was done, Aerys turned to say his own prayers. He thought of Rhaella, of her smile and her words, of her embrace, he thought of Shaena and Rhaenys, and he thought of Daenerys, who was heavy with child. He thought of his family and he swore a vow before the Seven that he would survive this battle for them and for Westeros. He had far too much work that needed to be done for him to die now.

Once finished with prayer, he straightened and marched toward his horse. A knight came to him and told him. “Sire, I have come from Bar Emmon’s host, they are engaged, three miles north of here.”

Aerys thanked the man and mounted up. “To arms.” The call went out. Once his men were armed and ready he said. “We kill traitors today.” His men cheered and he rode out, he knew who had command of the left and right, just as his men did. He rode as quickly as he could, the Kingsguard at his side. The sound of battle grew louder the closer they got, there were bodies piling on the road as he approached. A shout went up, and horses came charging from the mist.

“AERYS!” A yell went out. Baratheon was there, charging toward him in armour that made him look like the Laughing Storm. All yellow and gold and black.  Aerys watched as he swatted one man and then another away with his hammer, making it look like no work whatsoever. He swallowed nervously, then steeled himself, he was a Targaryen not a mouse.

Baratheon kept charging, Aerys decided to spur his horse forward, slowly drawing Blackfyre from out of its scabbard, both hands wrapped around it. Baratheon came closer, Ser Gwayne Gaunt engaged him, Aerys saw the two fight. All sparks and fire, he saw Baratheon grunt, he saw blood fly from the man. Aerys clashed with men who came with Baratheon, he killed them easily enough. Baratheon managed to knock Gaunt to the side, but he was bleeding. “You will not win this Baratheon.” Aerys snarled. “Your father would be ashamed of you.”

“Don’t you dare mention my father, you madman! He is dead because of you!” Baratheon snarled.

“He was murdered by your own bannermen!” Aerys snapped. “I had no part in his death, I loved him like a brother!”

“Pah! Some brother, you wanted him killed because he did not agree with your madness, because he did not want to implement the reforms that would destroy our kingdoms.” Robert snarled.

Around them, Baratheon guards died, as Gaunt, Selmy and Hightower took them down. Baratheon had not yet swung at him, so he managed to keep his calm. Though his sword was in his hands. “You are being fed lies. Steffon was supportive of the reforms, they are needed to protect the kingdom, to make it healthier.” Aerys replied. His mind working quickly.

“Increasing taxation, and destroying the legal system is not making the kingdoms healthier, it is making them weaker. You fool!” Baratheon snarled and swung.

Aerys blocked the swing and pushed it back. “I don’t know what you have been hearing but I think you have understood wrongly.”

“I have understood perfectly. Jon told me all about your craziness and what it means for the realm.” Baratheon replied swinging again.

Aerys moved backwards and it clicked. “Arryn is lying to you.” The deaths, the barbed threats, the return of the rat, the hawk and the pig, it all made sense now. He remembered what he had been told about Jon Arryn and Jasper Arryn, about how they had supported cousin Maegor in an attempt to get their place on the regency. “Arryn is using you.”

Baratheon swung and Aerys blocked. “You are the one who is lying to me. Jon has protected me and has raised me. He has shown me the truth.”

Aerys pushed back and managed to knock the hammer back slightly, he jabbed, Baratheon grunted as the sword hit. “I am not lying to you. I am telling you the truth.” Baratheon swung and Aerys got hit, he grunted. “Think about it, why did you never bother to come back to Storm’s End after your parents died? Why did Arryn never tell you about them before he had to?”

“You are lying.” Baratheon snarled, a series of swings and blows followed. Aerys could taste the blood forming in his mouth. He needed to get this sorted.

“Think about it!” He yelled, swinging Blackfyre and knocking Baratheon on the head. Another blow. “Think about it!” He smacked Baratheon on the head and then the chest, he found the gaps in the armour and exposed them, as Baratheon moved closed he pulled back.

“Fight me, you coward!” Baratheon roared.

Aerys watched Baratheon begin to slump, he saw the man retreated, his vision started going blurry then. He did not quite know what more needed to be done, his body ached. He did not think he had taken that many blows from the man, but evidently he had. He started leaning forward, perhaps if he could get some rest he would be fine. The sound of drums was deafening, he straightened. That wasn’t right. A charge came, Baratheon was there again, renewed. Aerys drew his sword and rode to meet them.

The rage that flowed through him at the sight of Steffon’s boy, his own damned cousin raging and swearing at him, determined to fight and die for an ideal that was not real, was something that truly consumed him. He pushed through the pain and the rage, through the blood seeping into his eyes and his mouth and his body. They came to within a few feet of one another and the clangs that sounded as battle was joined made him wake up. He swung, Baratheon swung, his arms jarred, his bones creaked. They broke apart, he moved back, Baratheon moved closer. They swung, again he heard the creaks and the groans, he heard the deafening crunch of something breaking. He pushed as hard as he could, but nothing more came. Blackness engulfed him, nothing more was left. “Rhaella.” He gasped as his lungs started caving in and the world disappeared. He heard laughter, manic laughter, and he cried, he would never see home again. Rhaella smiled at him and invited him home, but he couldn’t move. He wanted to yell, why couldn’t he reach her, why couldn’t he come to her? How could he hold her if he couldn’t move? Where was he? Where was this place? What was this place? He screamed, but nobody heard him, Rhaella smiled, her eyes sad.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	52. Pagan Altar: Jaime XI

The sound of men chattering away, preparing and distracting themselves from the oncoming war filled the air. Jaime knew that this was something men did to ensure that they did not have to face the unnerving silence that often accompanied the wait for battle. He understood it, he knew not to judge. He was lucky, very lucky after all, for Dany was with him. Dany had been a comfort to him through the trials and tribulations of the war so far, she had comforted him after the horror of Riverrun, and during the skirmishes that had seen them make their way to the Stoney Sept. Yes, he was very lucky.

However, he was not foolish. He looked at his wife and said simply. “Dany, my love, you are four moons gone with child, you cannot possibly expect me to agree to you traversing through the countryside during the war. You must either remain here or travel to Riverrun. You cannot come with me when I ride southwards.”

“And why not? We spoke to the maesters, they said that the movement would not damage the babe, and it is not too far, you, yourself have said that you would be setting up camp a mere mile away from the town. Why do you have to leave the town anyway? The Stoney Sept has defences here, why not bait them into coming here?” Dany asked.

Jaime ran a hand through his hair. “It is not that simple, my love. The Florents managed to push back the Tyrell army under the command of Mathis Rowan and Ser Willas is still fighting their other foes within the Reach. If we allow them to enter the Riverlands then Rhaegar will have a difficult time of it, especially as he will want to come and aid us. You know what your brother is like.”

He expected more protests, but instead his wife’s shoulders slumped and she said softly. “I know. I understand.” She looked at him then and he saw fear in her eyes, his heart ached. “I am just worried. My nephew died in King’s Landing and now Father is dead. I am worried for you and Rhaegar. I don’t want to let you out of my sight, my love. And I know that is foolish, after all you are the warrior out of the two of us. But I am scared.”

Jaime pulled his wife to him then, enfolding her in his embrace. He kissed the top of her head and whispered. “I know my love, I understand. I know that King Aerys died, and I know you are scared, but I must do this. I cannot sit here waiting for the enemy to come to me. Florent is a more calculating foe than that. And Uncle Kevan has already planned the entire route for the battle. Florent will be fighting us on terrain that we ourselves have picked out.”

“I know.” His wife mumbled into his chest. “That does not mean I won’t worry.”

Jaime pulled back slightly and looked into Dany’s eyes. “I cannot promise that I will come back, that is not something I would do to you. But I can promise you that I will try my absolute hardest to come back to you and our babe.”

Dany smiled. “I will hold you to that, no reckless charges, my love.”

Jaime laughed and kissed her. When they pulled back he whispered. “How could I be reckless knowing that this is what I have to come home to?” His wife laughed and he smiled, Dany looked beautiful, she always did, but there was something about her being with child, his child, that made her look even more beautiful. Her skin glowed and her hair, gods her hair was just something else. He pressed a hand to his wife’s stomach and smiled. “I look forward to meeting our child. I look forward to showing them the Rock and the Westerlands and telling them all sorts of stories.”

“When this is all over, we can tell them the stories of how their father fought bravely like a knight in the songs, to defeat the great beast that threatened everyone. We can tell them the stories of us, and we can tell them the stories our parents used to tell us.” Dany agreed.

Jaime felt his smile widen. “You know, I always did wonder why Queen Rhaella told you the story of the Knight and the Dragon, but never told your brother or sister about it.”

Dany giggled slightly and Jaime felt something stir within him. “Oh she did tell them, it’s just that I paid more attention to the story, rather than the other things.”

“Of course you did.” Jaime said, pushing his wife back onto the bed, he looked at her from above and whispered. “I love you, Dany.”

Dany gasped as he started kissing her neck. “I love you too, Jaime.” They kissed and Jaime lost himself to her embrace and to her love and to everything about her and them. For the time, they were together, there was only them, there was no war, there was no Florent, or army, or anything like that, there was just Jaime and Daenerys as it was always supposed to be. When they were done, he lay at her side, his arm wrapped around her and sighed in pleasure. “When this is all done, what do you think will happen?” Dany asked sounding sleepy.

“King Rhaegar will reform the realm as your father wished, and he will lead us into a golden age. A time for the kingdom to become united as it always should have been. And you and I shall help make the kingdom a far superior place than it is currently. Our children will have the best lives they could possibly imagine. With parents who love them.” Jaime replied, looking at his wife, wondering how he ever got so lucky.

His wife ran her hands over his chest. “That sounds so perfect and wonderful.”

“Hmm” Jaime agreed. They remained like that for a time before sleep claimed them. He woke some time later, and he knew by the sounds of the steel being prepared that the time for the war council had come. He woke Dany and informed her of this, she kissed him and then they got changed. Jaime dressed into his armour and made his way over to the main rooms where they were holding the councils. There he found the lords all dressed and ready, he nodded to them, then sat down. “Report.” He commanded.

“The Florent army has ridden around Highgarden, whilst leaving a small force to lay siege to the castle fortress. Our scouts report that this is merely a tactic to draw Rowan out of hiding and back into open fighting. Ser Willas continues to fight against the Florent allies in the Reach, he recently won a victory at Ocean Road, and it seems is trying to make a final push for Brightwater Keep itself. As regards the Florent host itself, our scouts report that they are somewhere near the Silver passes, and as such are gathering more men by the day.” Uncle Kevan stated.

“These men that they are gathering, are they sellswords or are they villagers who used to fight for the traitors?” Jaime asked. They had fought against a host commanded by Lord Haigh and defeated him, slaying him and his entire house, but there were still soldiers around who had fled.

“I believe these are merely villagers who have not had the time to see reason and instead are rallying to the Florents who have used their victories over the Tyrells to rally more support in monetary aid.” Uncle Kevan said.

“That Baratheon killed His Majesty, King Aerys has done the rebels a world of good as well.” Lord Crakehall stated.

“Where is Baratheon?” Jaime asked, the thought of gutting that arse brought him a strange amount of satisfaction considering he had never met the man. He supposed it had something to do with the fact that Baratheon was a traitor, and as a cousin to the King had become a kinslayer by slaying his own cousin, let alone King.

“Our sources report that he decided against riding for King’s Landing and instead has ridden northwards for Fairmarket. The King’s host under the command of Ser Barristan Selmy and Ser Gwayne Gaunt has marched after him, determined to bring him to heel.” Uncle Kevan replied.

“So, that means the White Bull is dead.” Jaime surmised, wondering how he was going to mention that to Dany. His wife had had a fondness for Ser Gerold, seeing him as an uncle, and he knew how much her father’s death had hurt her. “Very well.” He said deciding to place that concern to the side for now. “This Lord Florent, he seems bolder and more decisive than his father, how true is that?”

It was Uncle Tygett who answered. “Lord Alekyne has displayed the same sort of tenacity that his uncle Ser Axell demonstrates. He is bold and he has smarts, but from what I have observed his boldness often beats his smartness and makes him do things that are not completely rational. His attack on the Marsh being proof of that. I think that he can be goaded into making mistakes. One need only lay the bait out for him.”

“And what bait might that be?” Jaime asked. He had a rough idea, word of the Battle of the Marsh had trickled through and it had not painted Alekyne Florent in a flattering light. Attacking so many holy men for little reward was never a good idea.

“Place the baggage out in front. Instead of putting in the reserve as is custom. Place the chests of gold and silver that the King gave you out in the front, leave a light guard. Florent will come chasing after it, to try and make an example of you. Station archers near the gold, hidden in plain sight, and when Florent comes, as he surely will, have them fire on him and his men.” Uncle Tygett stated.

The suggestion was bold, Jaime would give his uncle that, but there was something about it that smacked more of arrogance than confidence. “And what happens if he does not fall for that? The Marsh must surely have taught him about patience and not taking things as they seem.”

“I would think that the fact that the man is spending more time traversing northwards than actually going for the killing blow against the Tyrells a sign that he is more focused on winning glory than pursuing what his family has supposedly wanted for nearly three centuries.” Uncle Gerion stated.

“It could simply be that he knows getting bogged down fighting against the Tyrells would prevent his chance of getting the richer spoils of war that are available in the Riverlands. I think it would make more sense for us to do as Ser Tygett suggests and bait him. His arrogance could well ensure that we do better than he does.” Lord Banefort said.

“Or it could lead to us being left with egg on our faces. And with this being a crucial battle for the course of the war, I am not sure if that is a risk you should take, my lord.” Lord Brax said simply.

“Have a bit of confidence that I know what I am suggesting.” Uncle Tygett said his eyes flashing dangerously. “Florent has the ability to do great damage, but his arrogance will cost him. I say we exploit that arrogance and make it so that he cannot come back to hurt us or the King in later battles.”

Jaime thought over the suggestion, there was sense in what his uncle suggested, but there was also a great risk. Archers would not be enough, they would need some armed presence as well, not too overt, but enough to ensure that they could not completely fooled should Florent try a feint. His mind made up, Jaime looked at the room at large and said. “We shall go with Ser Tygett’s suggestion, place twenty crates of silver and gold at the front of the host, place twenty armed guards, and place ten archers nearby. But Ser Tygett, I want you and one hundred men waiting nearby in the shadows. You will be the advance party to strike before anything else can get out of hand.”

“It shall be done, my lord.” his uncle said. Jaime nodded.

“Very well, let us bring this meeting to an end.” He got up, the others rose, bowed as he walked out, and he made his way to Dany who smiled when she saw him. She put his hand on top of her stomach and then put her hand on top of his.

“Remember what you have to come home to, my love.” Dany whispered.

Jaime nodded. “I do.” He kissed her, then pulled back and watched as she tied her favour around his arm. He mounted his horse and said. “I will come back to you.” He watched as his uncle and his men rode out first, then he rode out, straightening out as the gates disappeared behind him. His uncle made his way first toward the place they had decided to make the battle site. The place had lots of trees and covering, perfect for what they had planned. He just hoped that Florent would not use too much of his brain when he saw twenty crates of gold and silver just lying there with light guard.

As Jaime rode closer to the site of the battle, he could hear the scuffling, the moaning and groaning of men fighting. Clearly the plan had gone reasonably well. Florent men were fighting Lannister men, Jaime edged closer, as he saw a flash of red and the fox of Florent, he knew that they were in position. “Attack!” He yelled, his men took up his shout and they advanced out. Jaime’s sword did most of the work, soldiers on foot were easy targets, their bodies crumpling under the sheer weight and speed of the blows. He wheeled his horse around, when he rode passed the enemy, he knew the dangers of turning your back on the enemy and moved closer to the fighting. His Uncle was fighting five men at once, two of them went down almost immediately, one went down after three breaks, and the other two went down in the fray once Jaime joined. The chests of gold and silver were there, but some had been knocked over, and others were teetering on the brink of falling over.

“Is Florent here?” Jaime called out.

“No!” His uncle replied swinging his mace and bringing down a man who had been about to try to gut Jaime. “Ser Colin Florent is the one leading these fools.” His uncle nodded to a man wielding a sword as if it were a butcher’s knife. Jaime nodded and spurred his horse on, he cut down those who came in his way, although it felt more as if he had merely knocked them out. When he came face to face with Ser Colin the man grinned. They rode at one another, their horses seemingly growling. Jaime swung first and clipped Florent’s armour. He wheeled his horse around and rode again at the enemy. Florent did the same and this time Florent hit him. Jaime grunted slightly at the pain that blow caused. Then they wheeled back around and went at it for a third time, or at least tried to, Jaime decided at the last moment to duck, he slashed at Florent’s horse’s throat and brought the beast down, its death screams sending a chill down him.

 _Arrooooorrr. Arrooooorrr. A horn, but where?_ Jaime wondered. He heard more men fighting somewhere in the distance and it clicked. Florent had come. “Uncle, keep this under control, I’m going to keep a handle on the Florents.” Jaime yelled to his uncle’s squire, who duly relayed the message. Jaime pushed through, his horse and his men coming as he yelled. “With me!” He rode hard coming through the trees to the clearing and seeing Lannister men in crimson and gold fighting Florent men in orange and red, the fighting was chaotic. Jaime watched, waiting for the right moment, he found it when he saw the banner. He knew if he got to the banner and cut down the person carrying it, then things were set. And so began his charge.

It was as if something had taken control of him, he moved with a fluidity that shouldn’t have been possible in the armour he wore. His sword sang as it cut down men or wounded them. His sword led him through the chaos that had become the battle. He did not hear the cries or the screams, all he heard was the confirming roar that signalled he was getting ever closer to the main objective. He spared a momentary glance for his sword and saw it dripping red. He kept going. Jaime could tell that something was most definitely going to happen within the next few moments. His horse avoided the usual traps, and instead moved and sauntered with a grace that Jaime thought possible only in dancers. As the banner got closer, so too did his sense of anticipation. Florent was within reach.

The fox banner fell, but Jaime was not the one to do the deed. Instead, when he got there, he saw Florent on horseback grinning, his helmet gone, his face covered in blood. “You shall have to do the dishonourable thing now, Lannister.” The man laughed. Jaime was not sure what he meant, he wasn’t even sure if Florent was human anymore. But he moved forward, Florent rode to meet him. They clashed, their blades ringing out with the sound of the steel song, pushing, testing, waiting. Florent was strong even though he looked as if he were going to die at any moment. Jaime kept going, avoiding the face, until he was forced to. He pushed and Florent’s face exploded around him. Jaime stared at the face, when he heard it. _Arrooooorrr. Arrooooorrr. Arrooooorrr._ Suddenly he was turning his horse away as more men appeared, this time carrying banners he did not recognise. They rode hard and fast, eventually, Jaime had to turn around to fight them. He heard laughter and the banners came into focus, he gasped in horror.


	53. Diamond Head: Ned XIII

Ned read through the letter again, making sure to check through every word. _All well here, Ashara delivered a healthy baby boy, named him Rickon as you agreed, in honour of Father and Brandon. She’s resting just now. Hope all well with you. Benjen._ Ned put down the letter and smiled. He was a father, Ashara was a mother, he could not wait to meet their son. Ashara had told him she was with child via a letter when he was at Riverrun and he had not known what to think. And now, his child was in the world and the only thing he could think of was getting back to Winterfell to his wife and son. He had not met his son yet, but he already felt almost uncontrollable love for this little being that he and his wife had created. It was the oddest thing, but also something that he knew not to question. It had been the one bright light so far throughout the war for him.

They might be winning this war, but since taking Fairmarket, the King had lost his father, King Aerys, Prince Aegon had died of a fever, and now it seemed that things might be shaking up a little as well. They had found some information about the document that Jon Arryn wanted, but there was so much more that they did not quite know. Ned looked at the documents spread out before him and he wanted to scream. Instead he took a deep breath, his eyes rising as the King walked in. He got up and bowed, and as the King took his seat he said. “I am so very sorry for your loss, Your Majesty. Their Royal Highnesses were very good people. And their loss has been felt by the entire Kingdom.”

The King looked at him and nodded. “I thank you for your condolences, Lord Eddard.” There was a moment silence and then the King asked. “Now, what more have you managed to discover since we last spoke?”

For a moment Ned wondered how the King did it. How did he manage the grief he felt at the deaths of his wife, daughter and mother and still manage to be so upright and interested in something as mundane as the war? How did he think straight under the weight of grief he must be under? Ned knew that if he were in the King’s position he would not have been able to do so, he would have crumpled under the weight of it all. He said a silent prayer in thanks that Ashara and their son were hale and healthy in Winterfell.

Ned took a look at all the documents before him and said. “I have found various accounts that state one thing or another. There is nothing completely concrete about the document, nor any particular reason for why King Aegon would have agreed to something like it, and then not held up to the agreement, considering the type of man he was.” Indeed, the more time that Ned spent reading through the various books and treatise on the reasons behind Aegon’s Conquest and what happened after, the more convinced he became that no document actually existed that could confirm that King Aegon had ever signed any such thing that would limit his power.

The King nodded. “I see. That fits with what my own research has turned up. It appears that the first mention of this document comes when during the reign of King Maegor, the nobles started trying to think of ways to keep the tyranny of the man from expanding into their everyday lives. That is why some of the rebels who rallied behind King Jaehaerys stated that he would do what needed to be done to protect noble priveliges.”

Ned ran a hand through his hair. “Nothing I have seen so far indicates that King Aegon would ever willingly agree to giving up power, Your Majesty. The man who conquered the Seven Kingdoms through war and through diplomacy seems to have been a man who knew how to control the urges of his nobles and how to have dictated them into a manner that was more productive. He was less abrasive than either of his sons. He made sure to show that he was very much a ruler who respected Westerosi traditions as they existed within the Seven Kingdoms on an individual basis, rather than impeding on them.” As he said those words, the thought came to him, what if that was why Arryn was now claiming there was a document.

Almost as if he’d had the same thought, the King started rifling through various books. “I think we might be moving toward a similar thought, my lord. King Aegon kept the laws and customs of each of the individual seven kingdoms in place when he ascended the throne. And that went a long way toward winning the nobles and the people over to him. That he embarked on regular progresses throughout the realm to ensure that the people never forgot his face, is another thing that I think won the people over to his side.” The King rubbed at something on his cheek, a mark from the previous battle they’d fought against raiders from the Arryn host. “I think that as time went on, and especially after King Jaehaerys’ reign, my forbearers increasingly remained in King’s Landing and rarely left to visit other parts of their realm. Perhaps that was why my great-grandsire faced so much opposition because his predecessors had never done enough to show that there was one Kingdom not seven.”

“Do you think then, that Jon Arryn decided to create the myth of a document that could limit the power of an increasingly more active crown, because it suited his purpose. Because he felt that without doing as Aegon the Dragon had done, the crown had not basis for the reforms and changes it wanted to implement?” Ned asked, as he said it, it made sense, but at the same time he could not understand Arryn’s thinking. The King did not need permission to make reforms, he was the King his will was law.

“I believe that might well have been his thinking. What my Mother wrote to me before her death indicates that this was the case as well.” The King said.

“Your Majesty?” Ned asked uncertainly, the King had not mentioned anything about a letter, though considering the circumstances in which it was likely to have arrived, he did not blame him.

The King ran a hand over the bruise again then spoke. “You see, before their deaths, my mother and wife were doing their own research into various members of the court. To figure out how these people had gathered so much information about movement of resources and legislation when it was not announced beforehand. They also wanted to know where the rebels had gotten their early information from in the years preceding Duskendale.” The King took another breath, this one seemed as if it had caused him great difficulty. “During their investigation, certain members of the court became active suspects in this war. Foremost amongst them was the man who my father had appointed as Hand of the King before the war broke out. Lord Owen Merryweather. A man who had no talent, but had the means of providing information for my father. Merryweather was kept out of the biggest policy decisions that my father made, but he was there for council meetings. With the help of Lord Varys, my mother and wife discovered that Merryweather had been forging letters using the seal of the Handship and sending them to lords who were known to have been discontent with my father’s programme. He used couriers to send these letters. And in those letters, it was found he gave away information such as when the laws would be implemented, how to prevent their full implementation and how to successfully oppose them. He had written several letters to Lord Arryn.”

The King asked for wine, and when it was put before him took a deep gulp, before continuing. “My mother and wife did not question him directly, instead they had him watched, to see what he would do. They found that he met with several men and women in a manse on the Street of Silver. During the course of these meetings they would discuss the war, the funding of the rebel effort, and how best to distract the council from achieving proper resolutions to the problems of funding the war effort for the crown, and ensuring the kingdom continued to move safely. My mother was quite surprised you see, for Lord Owen had always come across as a bit of a dullard, the fact that he had the initiative to do something such as this, and seemingly have kept it going for quite some time, worried her immensely. She wanted to gather more information, but Shaena, my wife, ever the forward thinker decided that if they waited anymore time, they would give Merryweather all the cards. Consequently, she decided to have Merryweather arrested. Merryweather was arrested, but as he was being questioned, my wife and daughter were attending a service in Lady Celtigar’s manse,” the King shuddered, took a deep gulp of wine and then continued. “they were attacked. Brutalised. Their bodies were found many hours later, bloodied and scarred and dead. My mother knew who had done the deed. Merryweather was convicted of treason and executed, but before he died, he gave my mother one final taunt. He told her that the animals who had haunted her during her childhood had returned, that they had never gone away.” The King stared at Ned, seeing him, but not really seeing him. “The rat, the hawk and the pig had returned and they were responsible for this war.”

Ned thought about everything that had happened over the past few years, of the deaths of countless people in opposition to the reforms that would make the kingdom a far stronger place. He thought of those who had voiced the strongest opposition to the reforms, and those who had remained silent until the day the war had broken out. “Frey and Bracken were merely proxies being used to stir up discontent. The real enemies hid within the shadows, stoking the flames.”

The King nodded. “Yes. Frey and Bracken were goaded into treason through plays on their pride and their rivalries. Darklyn, he was the pig, a man who had gorged himself on the earnings of Duskendale, when he wanted more, he was denied it, he rebelled and lost his life and his wealth. Florent has always craved Highgarden and its assorted riches. The Florents have always wanted to bring more recognition to their house, but like the rat they snuck into the administration and caused a rot to sink in. Mother found countless accounts of Florent tax collectors abusing the system, and then killing anyone who would report it.”

“How long has this been going on for? Surely they must have been doing this for some time to have gotten so well versed in playing the system?” Ned asked, thinking through it. “I think Florent was part of the original cadre, but I think Darklyn joined much later, after the refusal of the charter of two hundred and seventy a c.”

“You would be right. Darklyn took the mantle of the pig then, but before him it was some other lesser known house long since dead. But, the real kicker was that the leader of all of this, was not some other second tier house, but a great lord. A lord whose family had long held a grudge against my own and had waited and planned for it all to come to this moment.” The King said.

Ned thought for a moment and then it hit him. “Arryn.” Another pause and then. “Since the Great Council of Two Hundred and Thirty-Three?”

“Longer. From the moment Lord Arryn’s great-great aunt married a mad man of a Prince. An insult that was meant as an honour. Arryn’s predecessor would never support the Blackfyres without a desire to see it through for revenge. As High as Honour, those are the Arryn words and their sigil is a falcon, though in certain lights it could come across as a hawk.” The King said. A dark light coming to take hold. “My Mother was burned alive by men bearing the sigil of the hawk. They were destroyed by the Kingsguard and by the Gold Cloaks, my mother managed to get what she had found written down and sent to me before her death. Varys and Pycelle hold the city in my absence, but now I know why Arryn has done all of this. And now I think we must concentrate on defeating him.”

“Would the revelation that there is no document do that?” Ned asked, thinking that perhaps they could get through to Baratheon.

The King shook his head. “No, Arryn has his replacement claimant with him in Baratheon. We must destroy him on the field of battle, and we must destroy the records of everything within this place. We cannot afford having it falling into their hands.”

Ned wanted to protest, the loss of such old knowledge was a crime, but then he could see why it was necessary, and so he said. “I shall have my men see to it.”

“Good.” The King said, before he stood. Ned stood as well. “Have your men tidy this up, and come with me, we have a war council to attend.” The King moved to the door, and Ned gestured at the documents to his servants they quickly got the message and started moving things to the fire. They walked out of the room in silence, the King seemed contemplative but also tense, Ned felt tired. The war was going in their favour, but there had been no word from Stoney Sept in sometime, nor had there been any news from the fords, where Edmure Tully and the Rivermen were stationed, protecting against any surprise attack from Baratheon or Arryn. They entered the main room where the lords were gathered, alongside the Kingsguard present. The King sat down and then spoke. “Report.”

Lord Stokeworth spoke. “Scouts report that the fords are still well guarded, and that the Baratheon host is being hounded by the host commanded by Ser Barristan Selmy. As for the Arryn host they remain an ever-looming presence but not present. So far there does not seem to be much going on without.”

“I think this is too convenient, I do not like it.” Lord Manderly said. “It seems too much as if Arryn is lulling us into a false sense of security. Fairmarket does not have the defences of a Riverrun or even of a Harrenhal. If the enemy comes to use here, we are doomed.”

“I do not plan on remaining here. The document that Arryn claims is here, is not here. We have scoured through every inch of this place and found nothing. I shall not waste any more time. I have instructed Lord Stark to have every document within the library here burned so that it cannot be placed into false hands. We are going to leave from here on the morrow and ride for the Fords. We shall aid the Tullys and the Riverlords in their quest to defend crossing from the Valemen. The time has come for us to be on the offensive.” The King stated.

“And what of King’s Landing, Your Majesty? With the deaths of the Queen Dowager and the Queen, there seems to not be any viable commanding presence there. Would it not be a good idea to send someone with a presence to hold the city?” Lord Mooton asked.

The King stared at Mooton, Ned suspected that the man wanted the King to give him a small force to command to King’s Landing, to know doubt play into his own cowardly pursuits, the man was not a brave one in contrast to his brother. “Considering the enemy host that remains in our way, I would say that anyone trying to get to King’s Landing would need to get through them. I will not waste men on something that might not ever be achievable. King’s Landing is defended by two thousand of the finest fighters in Westeros, and the royal fleet. For now, it is secure. Should that change before we leave, then I shall consider a change in my plans.”

There was a sudden clattering and a shout, before the door opened and a Ser Oswell of the Kingsguard entered. “Your Majesty, forgive me for the interruption, but the scouts have returned. And they carry grave news.”

“What news is this?” the King demanded.

Ser Oswell looked as if he didn’t want to say anything just then, but spoke regardless. “There has been a fight, or several fights at the Fords, the Arryn and Baratheon hosts have pushed back the Riverlords. They are coming up the Blue Fork. They are pressing for their advantage.”

“And the host commanded by Ser Barristan?” The King asked.

“Trailing them.” Ser Oswell replied.

The King thought about this for a moment and then said. “Lord Mooton you have gotten your wish after all. You are to ride for Ser Barristan’s host and tell him to take his host to King’s Landing he is to hold the city.” Lord Mooton nodded. The King then focused on the rest of them. “Prepare to ride out, we shall not be stuck here when Baratheon comes.” The King looked at him then, and Ned nodded, he knew what he needed to do.

The meeting ended and Ned hurried off to the library and began barking orders for the letters, the books, for the scrolls to all be burned. He felt a slight loss as he saw it all fed to the flames, there was a lot of history here, but they could not afford to let this fall into the enemy’s hands. Knowledge was power after all, and there was nothing more powerful than that which was written by the Kings of Westeros. Once the documents were burned, Ned ordered his men prepared and prepared himself for the oncoming fight. He said his prayers, the gates were opened and they rode out. Preparing to meet the enemy face on, it did not take long before they came upon the battle, and there were more men there than Ned had thought there would be.

 


	54. Desperation: Rhaegar V

The towers burned, the people watched with vacant eyes. Rhaegar wanted to close his eyes, he wanted to close himself off from the pain, but he knew doing so would not be fair or right. He was the King now, and a King could not hide, regardless of how much weight there was on your shoulders. So, he watched as the towers and the books within them burned. Hundreds of years of history disappearing right before his eyes, it was an odd feeling, but one that was necessary. Should something go wrong, Jon Arryn could not be allowed to get his hands on this knowledge. For it was Arryn, and not Baratheon who was the true threat here. A figure came to stand by his side and he said softly. “You know why it had to be done.”

“I do, Your Majesty.” Lord Eddard Stark replied, Stark had displayed a sense of purpose, perhaps a sense of ruthlessness that Rhaegar had not thought was possible beforehand. “I have come to say that everything has been done as you asked. Perhaps now is the time to leave?”

Rhaegar turned away from the burning towers and nodded. “Yes, you are right.” With that he turned away, his armour glimmering in the light of the flame. He mounted his horse and nodded to Stark. “I shall see you on the field of battle, my lord.” Stark bowed his head, Rhaegar gripped the reins of his horse and spurred it forward. Ser Arthur and Ser Oswell at his side, Lord Whent commanding the left of the combined host, Lord Stark the right. He moved his horse forward, the gates of the town were pushed open, they creaked slightly as they did, he had been surprised by how contained the fire had been, but at the sudden gush behind him, he knew that that was now not the case. His horse increased its pace in response, and other horses and men soon filed out to join the march.

Their scouts had reported the presence of a host southwards, near the Trident, where the forks met and joined into one. Rhaegar suspected that either Tully had made his last stand there, or Baratheon and Arryn were camped out in preparation for some battle or the other. Rhaegar tried to keep his nerves in check, it would do his men no good if the King was nervous. Briefly he thought of sending Arthur or Oswell out to take command of the left or right, the Kingsguard traditionally helped command the King’s armies, and he knew that Ser Gerold Hightower had taken over overall command during the War of Ninepenny Kings when Lord Ormund had died. But for once in his life Rhaegar decided he was going to be selfish. He decided to keep Arthur and Oswell with him, if he needed to, only then would he sent them out.

The ground turned red as they got further and further away from Fairmarket, the tracks of horses and of men became clearer as they approached the site where there had evidently been battle. Rhaegar nerves increased. The grass looked as though it had been trampled over, and brushed over a great many times. There were fragments of broken men and women lying scattered across the fields, wheat had been destroyed. That was not good, in the winter that was coming, that would mean that the people here would starve and die, another problem he would need to address when this was all done. He was not looking forward to that. There was the other issue as well, but he did not want to think about that now.

He saw the signs of battle, he saw Tully banners flying high and proud, he saw young men riding toward almost certain death. He saw shield walls and broken formations, he saw it all as they got closer to the running water. “Ser Arthur.” He said softly, the knight came forward. “Tell Ser Lothar to prepare the archers.” The knight nodded, commands were barked out, and the archers moved forward. Rhaegar waited he needed to judge the right time, get it wrong and the Rivermen would be lying scattered and broken. He saw them engage then pull back then engage again, he saw this happen twice more, before he finally reached his decision. “Release.” He called out. The shout was passed down through the line, the archers knocked their arrows, sighted and then released. Rhaegar watched as a hail of arrows flew into the air, then dived down and landed. Men were slain, but some escaped, running back toward their own shelters. “Again.” Rhaegar commanded. Again, the archers drew up, sighted and unleashed their arrows. This time the arrows managed to hit a few more men. The Baratheon or the Arryn men, or whoever it was down there, decided that now was the right time to get their own archers into the fold. “Archers prepare for counter fire.” Was the shout that spread across the line.

For a dozen heartbeats, maybe more arrows rained back and forth, pushing the chaos, men would scream and men would grunt or curse, but men died all the same. Rhaegar watched all of this, knowing that this was just the first exchange, Baratheon was somewhere out there, he and Arryn had likely merged their two hosts, and he that might well have prevented Ser Barristan from leading his host back to King’s Landing. “Archers fall back, lances prepare.” Rhaegar called out, the command was passed down the line, Rhaegar took his lance from a squire and said a quick prayer. The archers ceased firing and stepped back. Rhaegar took another breath, a quick word to the sky, his horse started moving, first at a slow trot, then steadily increasing speed.  The ground thundered below him, groaning under the weight of so many horses and men bearing upon it. The enemy rode out to meet them, a brazen charge, Baratheon in command then. A loud thud indicated contact had been made.

The first body to fall to the lance was a boy on the ground, speared by the lance, his body made a sickening thwack as it slumped down to the ground. Rhaegar tried not to think on that as he kept moving down. Another man this time mounted came forward, trying to fight, but instead being knocked down and trampled on. A third man came riding hard, lance in hand they crashed against one another, lances pushing to find purchase against something that was not really there. The lances broke, and weapons were drawn. Sword against sword, Dark Sister against ordinary steel, a clang sounded out, Rhaegar could tell this man was good, he ducked, diverted and turned, Rhaegar slashed, broke and swerved, bringing his concentration back once more. The man continued to dance on the fringes of solidarity, there was a sense that the man was going to push forward, to make something groan and creak. Rhaegar blocked a blow, then hammered back with his own, a feint here, a swing there, he found the time to swing as quickly and as hard as he could, the man before him groaned, and as blood poured out of him, Rhaegar moved forward to finish the deed, the man’s horse gave way. Rhaegar nodded to himself and moved onward.

Rhaegar took a moment to catch his breath, to assess the carnage that was unfolding before him. Baratheon and Arryn men were fighting alongside one another, but there were Rivermen there as well, Deddings, Erenford and others, all were present. He could not see Tully or Blackwood or Mallister, but he presumed they were present fighting just as hard as anyone else. “Your Majesty, there, near the bridge.” Ser Arthur said, Dawn pointed off away. Rhaegar followed the point of the sword and saw a man swinging his hammer like a mad man. Robert Baratheon was there, fighting as if his life depended on it. “I could end this now for you, Your Majesty.” Ser Arthur volunteered.

Rhaegar thought about it for a moment. It was tempting, send the finest knight and swordsman in the realm to fight and kill Baratheon and end the war, yes it was very tempting, but Rhaegar knew that should Arthur go and die, then they would be down a very fine fighter. He shook his head. “No, remain here, we must take care of the others, isolate Baratheon and ensure he has nowhere to run.” He knew Arthur would not like that, but the knight said nothing. Arrooooorrr, the horn sounded and he knew that Stark had joined the battle, sweeping up through the north-western side. “Come we must push forward.” Rhaegar said, secretly hoping that this would see off Baratheon before he would need to face him.

Dark Sister sang as she met another foe’s body, cutting down the man and advancing over his already rotting corpse. There were more men, foot soldiers mainly, who came forward, trying to fight the King, to win glory for themselves, but a damned day in hell for when they did die. Rhaegar dispatched them easily, peasants were no match for a Targaryen, those who he ignored were dealt with by Arthur or Oswell, they were finally earning their keep as knights of the King. Rhaegar noted that the battle was all around them now, there was not one corner of ground that could be seen. It was either covered by bodies or by men fighting. Somewhere in the distance the Trident was simmering, running deep down and pushing for something that might or might not be there. Rhaegar pushed forward, as knights came at him. Swords were swung, but blocked and pushed out of the way, knights fell or were pushed, he was not quite sure, but he rode on regardless, he was the King he did not have the time or the luxury to wait behind to see what could or could not be happening.

A giant of a man swung at him then, he blocked, but the impact cause his shoulder to jar and for him to grunt in pain. That would hinder him perhaps if he let it, but this time, he could only hold firm, the strain of it all making his shoulder scream in protest. Sweat trickled down his brow, the man before him was panting heavily from the strain of the combat they were locked into. Rhaegar held as firm as he could, but he knew that his arms were going to give way soon. The man was the one who broke first, his weapon moving back suddenly. Rhaegar inched closer, he feinted to the right, drawing the man there, exposing a gap between his helmet and his neck, a small gap, but a gap all the same. Rhaegar moved quickly, using all his training to dart in and snick the man, before he moved back. Blood gushed out from the wound, he’d gotten a vein, the man reeled and slumped, his horse bolting, dragging him across the ground. Rhaegar watched and sighed.

He moved forward, Baratheon appeared closer than he had been before. Butterflies moved in his stomach as he realised that. He steeled himself, he was the King and the King did not feel nervousness. He moved forward, Dark Sister singing at the lives she took, at the way the men crumbled before her very touch. Around him the battle moved, the current going back and forth, there did not seem to be a clear winner yet, the banners of Cafferen, Grandison and Fell all lay strewn on the ground, their lords somewhere near them. A shame, they were brave men who had fallen prey to something otherworldly. He rode onward, meeting Lord Swann during the midst of battle, the man wasn’t a lord, not anymore, not since Father had deemed him and his family traitors. Swann fought bravely, but in the end, he died all the same, skewered under the weight of his armour and his hopes and ambition.

Rhaegar moved on, the pressing weight, becoming ever more troublesome. He tried not to think of the bodies as people, he knew that if he did, he would never be able to continue fighting. Somewhere, there was a distinct roar, what sounded like the howling of wolves, he smiled, it seemed Stark had won the right, that gave him some confidence. Confidence that was broken when he saw a Tully banner lying on the ground. His heart dropped, was Edmure Tully dead then? Or had he been captured? Rhaegar did not know, and he did not know if he would have the time to figure it out. A roar sounded somewhere close by, and men started rushing at him. Dark Sister rose up to defend him, almost on its own accord. Block, block, swing, block, block, retaliate, that was the pattern of the fighting. One man fell, gutted through and through, another was removed by Ser Arthur, another was dealt with by Ser Oswell. Rhaegar replied to the carnage by hammering home, pushing through it all, trying desperately not to get lost within the chaos and the mix of it all.

He was only partially successful, Baratheon was in view now, approaching him, like a man haunted by demons, but before Rhaegar could see what exactly Baratheon would do, the tide turned and they were separated by a mass of bodies. The right had come to join the fighting properly, Rhaegar breathed a sigh of relief when he saw Edmure Tully fighting alongside Stark. They looked hurt but not damaged, and so that gave him the strength to keep fighting. He pushed through, he knew that if he got his men to link with Stark and Tully that they would destroy what remained of the Baratheon vanguard, if the Baratheon right had been removed then surely their host must be close to withdrawing. He kept moving, Dark Sister laying a bloody path through almost all of those who came before him. However, all was not as it seemed, for the ground shook and more men joined, this time flying the banners of Deddings, Erenford, Haigh, Cox, Ambrose and Appleton, and Royce and Templeton, the Vale and Reach had joined the fighting. The swing pushed the right away, Stark having to deal with them so that they did not overwhelm the vanguard, Rhaegar watched as Stark turned and his men turned with him.

Organisation, which had previously given Rhaegar hope of avoiding a direct clash with Baratheon now gave way to chaos. His shoulders ached, and he could tell that soon enough he would need to have his arms looked at, they had taken a bruising the like of which nobody should ever have to undergo. His heart dropped when he saw Lord Stokeworth’s broken and battered body lying on the ground. It had been hacked to pieces, and it seemed that all common decency had left for there were those trying to take his armour and his sword, Rhaegar ordered those men killed, and he stayed to watch as they were dispatched from the mortal world. When he looked up, Baratheon was charging at him. Rhaegar sighed, his body groaning in protest. “Remain here.” Rhaegar commanded of Arthur and Oswell, his horse moved and Baratheon came closer to view. “Cousin, stop this fighting, there is enough time for this to end peacefully.” Rhaegar said, he did not think Baratheon would budge, and he was proven right.

“Pah, I killed your father, you fool, I will kill you as well.” Baratheon snarled.

“Very well then. Give it your best shot, cousin.” Rhaegar replied. Baratheon roared, his hammer coming hard and fast. Rhaegar blocked the potential blow though his body ached with the strain it was under. He grunted with the effort of holding Baratheon back, then when he felt that he could not hold on much longer, Baratheon pulled away. Rhaegar blinked, surprised and saw that Baratheon was badly wounded, cuts and dents present throughout his armour, some of the cuts were bleeding quite badly. Trying once again to make his cousin see sense, he said. “Robert, please, enough of this, enough men have died for a misunderstanding. Please, call off your men and I will do the same, let us talk about this reasonably. Like men, not children.”

Baratheon laughed. “There is nothing to talk about, there is no misunderstanding. You killed my father and mother, you destroyed the Stormlands and you will destroy the Seven Kingdoms if you get the chance. I cannot allow that.”

“There is no Seven Kingdoms, there is only one Kingdom, there is only one Westeros.” Rhaegar replied.

Baratheon roared at that and swung his hammer once more. Rhaegar struggled to defend himself, but he managed, his arms were screaming every time that Baratheon swung the hammer and he blocked. He wanted to do something else entirely, he did not want to be here, but he kept going. He would not stop, he could not stop, the Kingdom depended on him. Shaena was there suddenly, smiling, beckoning him forward, asking him to help her put Rhaenys and Aegon to sleep. Rhaenys always asked for a song before she went to bed, and he was the only one who knew the song she loved so much. His eyes watered as he remembered that Rhaenys was gone, she was no longer alive, but then Shaena was there, her hand on his cheek, telling him it was alright to rest, to want to sleep. He hadn’t slept in so long, not since he’d received word that they’d died, but how could they have died if they were right before him?

Shaena laughed and told him he’d have to find out for himself. Father and Mother appeared then. “We’re so very proud of you, son.” Father said. Rhaegar nodded, there was a weight on his chest, he looked down but could not see anything, so he did not know where the weight had come from.

“You can let go now, my son, you’ve done all you could do.” Mother said.

“Come home to me, my love, to me and our children.” Shaena pleaded.

Rhaegar looked at them, he blinked, something clattered to the ground, the weight slowly lifted from his chest, he took Shaena’s hand. “Shaena….” He whispered, he fell into her embrace, and felt at peace.


	55. Rest Now In The Fire: Jaime XII

It had been six moons since his clashes with the Florents. Since the retreat and the counter attack, since he had slain too many men for any one person to truly be sane afterward. The Florents and their men had broken themselves on the back of their assault, but they had taken casualties from the Lannister host as well. Uncle Kevan was dead, his head had been battered to a dozen pieces, Lord Crakehall was dead, dragged down and left to rot in a ditch and Lord Brax had been slain, tormented before his own death had come. Tytos had been in a great rage, but there had been nothing for them to do there. The Florents had failed, defeated and broken, Ser Erren Florent had surrendered and was now a prisoner in Riverrun. Dany had given birth in the Stoney Sept, and the babe, the boy, their son, had been named Loren, for the King who had brought peace and prosperity to the Rock.

Word had come that Rhaegar had died, slain during the fighting at the Trident, the enemy and the alliance had fought and fought until Baratheon and the rebels had retreated. Baratheon was badly wounded, so they had not made their way to King’s Landing. Jaime had once he had received word that Dany was safe to travel, ordered his men to march for where the royalist force was camped out. There he had found Ned, Connington, Ser Arthur, Ser Oswell and Ser Barristan all looking shocked. The King had died; two Kings had died during this war and Baratheon and Arryn remained alive. They knew why Arryn had rebelled and dragged Baratheon with him, and it did not make sense. It had only filled Jaime with rage, so many good men had died, and for what? For some man’s petty anger.

A touch on his arm brought him out of the process, and he looked to see Dany standing there. “Loren is sleeping. Vylarr and Ser Oswell are guarding him.” There was that look in his wife’s eyes again. With Rhaegar dead the succession had become murky, Baratheon had sent men stating that he was now the rightful King per the Great Council of one hundred and one, but Ned and several maesters had refuted this. The succession had always gone from male to male, but Robert was not descended in the male line, he was descended from the female line. Dany was descended from both the male and the senior female lines, therefore she was the rightful Queen. Baratheon’s emissaries had laughed and left.

“Good.” Jaime said, Loren had silvery hair, and one green and one violet eye. He reminded Jaime of Dany, whereas his wife thought he looked more like Jaime did. He took Dany’s hand and pulled her to him. “How are you doing?” He knew it was a silly question to ask, his wife had lost her entire family over the course of a year, and now there were those who would deny her, her birth right.

“I am okay, you are okay, and Loren is okay. I am okay.” Dany replied, running a hand over one of the scars he had taken during the fighting with Florent’s host. Those memories would stay with him till the day he died, he was sure of it. “How are you doing?” His wife asked.

Jaime sighed and laughed. “I don’t know. This war has taken so much from us, from everyone who has fought in it. I do not know what Baratheon and Arryn hope to achieve by dragging things out for this long. I do not know how Baratheon still thinks Arryn innocent of his crimes.” A detailed list had been compiled and sent, Baratheon had replied by sending back the emissary in a box, his fingers and hands torn to pieces.

“I think he is seeing what he wants to see. I think he has thrown himself into the lie that Arryn has created, because it is easier than admitting to himself that the man who he has grown up admiring, the man he sees as a father is actually a murderer, and a man who has never loved him.” Dany said. “He has come to realise that Arryn has never seen him as anything other than a tool with which to achieve his goals. I saw that realisation in his face when Arryn said what he said at the meeting.”

Jaime grimaced at the reminder of that meeting. It had been incredibly heated, a lot of words had been exchanged and Jaime had lost his cool, he had drawn Brightroar and cut down two of Baratheon’s guards before he had stopped, remembering where he was. It had all started over who claimed Dark Sister and Blackfyre. Jaime ran a hand over his wife’s arms and asked. “What do you want to do?”

Dany turned and faced him. She looked right into his eyes. “I do not want the throne, Jaime. I saw the burden it placed on my father and mother, and I saw what the thought of it was doing to Rhaegar and Shaena. The throne is a curse, a weight that nobody can truly handle.” Jaime nodded, but did not speak, he felt that there was more to come. “But, I will not let Baratheon sit the throne. He has the lesser claim, though he is a man. Furthermore, he would have come to the throne on the bodies of my father, mother, brother and sister and their children. I could never live with myself if I let him take the throne.”

“Whatever you decide, I will stand beside you completely.” Jaime replied.

“I know.” Dany whispered, placing a hand on his cheek. “What do you want?”

A brief memory from when they were children ran through his head then, of the time they walked through the streets of King’s Landing and people came to them. Of the healing touch and of the look on the people’s faces when they realised what he’d done. Of the way, they’d bowed and whispered and bowed, awe on their faces. He remembered how he and Dany had giggled at that afterwards, he remembered how they had joked about it and laughed and sung, and danced. He remembered kissing Dany, and he remembered the look in Robert’s eyes when he had looked at the two of them and Loren, and he remembered the way Dany had held her ground. He looked at Dany and replied. “I want to be with you.”

Dany got on her toes and kissed him, when she pulled back she was smiling. “Then let us claim our throne.”

Jaime took his wife’s hand and lead her to the main command tent, already present were Ned and the other lords of their three hosts. Ser Barristan and Ser Arthur were also present in their Kingsguard white. Jaime and Dany down at the head of the table, and Ned spoke. “My lord, my lady, have you reached a decision?”

Jaime looked at Dany and nodded. “Yes, we have.” He paused for effect, as the lords looked at one another and then back at the two of them. “We have decided that Robert Baratheon is too dangerous to allow to take the throne. He will undo everything that King Aerys and King Rhaegar worked for. Allowing Jon Arryn, a chance to gain power would bring nothing but chaos to the realm. Consequently, myself and my lady wife have decided to lay claim to the throne. If there is any here who opposes that, let them speak now.”

There was a long silence, interrupted when Ned asked. “Will you rule jointly?”

“Yes.” Jaime and Dany answered together.

Ser Barristan and Ser Arthur approached, they placed their swords on the ground before them and kneeled. “As Kingsguard, we do hereby swear fealty to Your Majesties, and recognise you both as King and Queen of Westeros, we recognise our oaths and do swear to protect and serve until death.”  Ser Oswell arrived alongside Vylarr the wetnurse carrying Loren, Oswell kneeled and swore the same oath as his sworn brothers had.

Once the knights rose to their feet, and Oswell took his place at his sworn brothers’ side and Loren was placed in Dany’s arms, Ned got up and bent the knee as did the other lords. “I know I speak for myself and the north when I say that we shall serve you loyally from this day until our last. Your Majesties, the north is yours.”

Lord Edmure, battered and beaten but still standing, kneeled and said. “We have fought and bled together, we are family in all the ways that matter. From this day till our last, the Riverlands are yours, our loyalty is yours forever more.”

Lord Willas Tyrell bent the knee as well and spoke. “The Reach is yours forevermore Your Majesties.” Their lords all followed suit, and the proclamations rang out around the command tent. Jaime could admit to feeling some sense of pride, Loren gurgled, and Dany smiled. Eventually, once the proclamations were done, Dany rose and Ser Oswell followed her and Loren back to her and Jaime’s tent to stand guard.

Jaime turned his attention back to the lords gathered. “What is the state of affairs? How many men do we have left and do we have enough supplies to feed them all?”

Lord Banefort was the one who answered that. “We have a combined host of some forty thousand men, Your Majesty, and we have enough supplies to feed them for another two moons. I would recommend bringing Baratheon to battle sooner rather than later, otherwise we shall run out of supplies, and there is not enough in the Riverlands to sustain this army.”

“Nor can we march on the Reach for supplies without attracting attention.” Ned stated.

“What of Baratheon and his army?” Jaime enquired.

Ser Brynden answered. “They are camped near the bridge of skulls, seven miles from our current position. My scouts report that they are running low on food and morale. It seems Baratheon and his allies are going to try and force a crossing toward the southern edge of our camp. Baratheon himself is dangerously low on health, and it seems Arryn is the one who is pushing through everything.”

Denys Arryn, knight of the Vale and the person Jaime was considering naming as Lord of the Eyrie when this was all over spoke. “He will be finding things to goad Robert into fighting for, he will not rest. Not now that King Rhaegar is dead. He believes the way to King’s Landing is clear and that the only thing stopping them is Robert’s own wounds.”

“Would Arryn ever try and push onward, would he make Baratheon ride to his death to try and achieve a goal?” Ned asked, by the way Ned’s brows were scrunched, Jaime could tell he was thinking up a plan.

“I think Jon would try and pressure Robert into getting the treatment he needs and then, yes he would make him go as quickly as he could. For now, the advantage is with neither side, Jon would not like that to remain the case, he would want to take the initiative and force us after him.” Arryn stated.

“So, then would it be best for us to take the initiative and begin our own attacks on them?” Jaime asked, he thought very quickly that perhaps there might be something in there for a quick attack.

“I would recommend so yes. The longer we wait, the more time it will take for us to recoup any ground we lose and the more exposed we become.” Ser Denys said.

Jaime nodded, he could see the sense in that, he looked at Ned, who slowly raised an eyebrow indicating agreement. “Very well, prepare to strike camp immediately. Lord Stark command the right, Lord Tully the left, I shall command the vanguard. Lord Stokeworth you have command of the baggage.” The men nodded and got up and bowed before departing, Jaime made his way over to his and Dany’s tent, as he did so he stopped and looked at Ser Arthur. “Ser, you are Lord Commander of my Kingsguard.” The knight bowed and straightened. Jaime entered the tent and kissed Dany, looking at her for a long moment, before running a hand over his son’s head. “It is all sorted. We ride soon.” He said aloud.

Dany came behind him and wrapped her arms around his chest. “Be safe, and come back to us.”

“I will.” Jaime stated. “I love you.” He turned and kissed her again. “Your Majesty.”

Dany grinned. “And I love you, Your Majesty.”

Jaime grinned, and then prepared himself. It took a while, but sure enough he was ready, and Dany and their son were there waiting for him. He took her favour, kissed her and their son and then walked out. His horse was waiting for him, as were the Kingsguard, he stopped, turned and looked at his wife and son, then at Ser Oswell, he walked over to Oswell and whispered. “Protect them Ser, with your life, or it is mine.” The knight nodded, Jaime nodded, then turned and mounted his horse. He spared one last look at his wife and son before spurring his horse forward. The men were prepared, he was prepared, but he still felt nervous. He saw some of the men shuffling, he took a deep breath and thought of something that King Rhaegar might say, or something Father might say, but nothing that came to mind seemed right, instead he said something his mother had once told him. “Today we fight, not for freedom, not for glory, but for what is right. Across the way, is a man who would stop the kingdom from healing, who would stop the kingdom from growing. A man who would keep us all under his thumb. He is a man who has given into greed and pride and lust and anger. He has no rational thought. He is not a monster, he is a man. But he has refused to see reason. We must ensure the protection of the kingdom, of our friends, but most importantly of our families. A man is not a man if he cannot do that. To protect our families so that they might have a future worth living. A future worth fighting for. Are you with me?” There was a roar. “Are you with me?” An even louder roar and men started banging their weapons against shields.

“For the King! For the Queen!” Went the cry, Jaime hid a grin as he pulled his helmet on.

“For the future!” Jaime yelled as he turned and began the march.

They rode through the camp, people cheering as they did, Jaime kept his breathing even, he had fought several battles, he was used to this, but the butterflies kept floating in, reminding him of what he had to lose. Dany and Loren were there, images in his mind, reminding of what he had to protect. They passed the camp and were out onto the ground, silence followed, only the sound of hooves on the ground and men marching, Jaime relaxed, this was normal, this was something he knew. They kept going, pushing and pushing, eventually they saw the scouts, Jaime nodded and their own front riders took the scouts in hand. Jaime took his lance and prepared for the upcoming clash, somewhere the horn rumbled and then they were charging down. Men half-dressed took the brunt of the early assaults, more men appeared this time they were more prepared, lances broke and swords were drawn, Jaime cut them away, removing the strain of the enemy before it could become something more than it was.

Baratheon and Arryn men were mixed in with those who were ill prepared, there was a laziness to the way the camp had been organised, it was almost too easy, the ground rumbled and the men somewhere in distance yelled. “A wolf.” Was the shout and Jaime knew that Ned had come into the fray. He smiled and continued the killing. Men screamed, but there was nothing to it anymore. He knew what he was fighting for, Dany and Loren were waiting for him. he had to get back home, to them, they were his home, they always had been. He would not disappoint them. He would not leave them alone. Baratheon had taken so much from them all, that made him angry, Baratheon with his blind anger and ambition, and Arryn with his greed. They had taken fathers, brothers and sons, they had destroyed the Kingdom, and now they would suffer for it.

Baratheon appeared, armoured and with hammer in hand. “So you’ve taken my throne have you?”

Jaime snorted. “You have no right to the throne. It was never yours, you are a blind fool who refused every attempt at peace. You deserve nothing.”

Baratheon said nothing, killing a man who had charged at him then he said. “You know nothing boy. You have been fed lies and deceit, the Targaryen tradition. Now you will die and then so shall your wife and son.”

Jaime snarled he swung and cut a deep gash into Baratheon. “Never say that again.” He swung and Baratheon swung, sparks flew, but then Baratheon was dropping, Jaime followed and broke the hammer, how he did not know, but then Baratheon was fighting again. Duck, swing, duck, swing, block, break, swing, cut, injured. He grunted slightly, his wounds not yet healed screaming as he fought. Baratheon kept pushing demanding answers. Jaime blocked as best he could, when he sensed his horse was giving way he spurred forward, Baratheon buckled, and Jaime moved as quickly as he could to get off the horse. His sword clattered to the ground and he jumped. He hurried to get the sword. Baratheon moved to get the sword as well, his hammer was somewhere else, Jaime kicked the dirt up, then drew his dagger.

Baratheon snorted. “So, this is it eh? The Lion of Lannister and the Demon of the Trident.”

“You are no demon.” Jaime replied, he kicked more dirt into the air, Baratheon was distracted, Jaime moved and slashed blood spurted. “That was for my father.” He slashed again. “That was for my King.” He slashed again and again and again. “And that was for all the pain you’ve caused.” He buried the knife in Baratheon. The man sunk down. Jaime grabbed Brightroar and snarled. “In light of your treason, you are sentenced to die.” He swung and Baratheon crumpled, split in half. Jaime stood panting over the body, then he said. “We must finish this.” He turned and continued into the battle.


	56. Sepia: Ned XIV

The battle had raged around them, there had been so many men pressed into the space. The ground had swollen up with the list of bodies that had grown ever larger as the moments had passed. A roar had shot through the field, Baratheon had been killed, but the fighting continued. Indeed, it seemed to have picked up a very hefty quality to it as the Arryns and the other rebels started fighting even faster, even harder, their sense of inevitable defeat seeming to spur them on. Eventually, the fighting had stopped. The rebels had thrown down their weapons and the lords had surrendered. From there Arryn, Royce, Templeton, Corbray and countless others who were not dead were thrown in chains and escorted to King’s Landing, for judgement.

Here they were, the capital, a place Ned had not seen in a year and a half. The streets had been lined with people, all of them looking at them and pointing at things, people, horses, there was an air of grief to the whole thing. After all, King Aerys, Queen Rhaella, King Rhaegar, Queen Shaena, Prince Aegon and Princess Rhaenys were all dead, but there was one Targaryen left, Queen Daenerys, who had received a very loud ovation when she had appeared on horseback, Prince Loren attached to her through some innovative new design. Jaime had gotten the loudest roar of them all though. The man who had killed Robert Baratheon, the man who had ended the war. He deserved it. Ned was happy for his friend, for his brother, and he knew they had a lot of work to do before they could truly settle down into the peace that the deaths of Baratheon and Arryn had brought.

For starters, there was what the new dynasty was going to be called. Ned looked through the documents that had decided previous disputes over names and sighed. “You have to decide Your Majesties,” he began. “Do you want to rule as House Targaryen, as House Lannister, as some combination of the two or do you want to choose a completely new name?”

The King laughed. “Out all of the things that we’d have to do today, I did not think that this would be one of them. It’s a fucking name, Ned, why the hell do we have to decide what the name will be now? What importance does it serve? Lannister, Targaryen, it doesn’t matter, all that matters is that Dany and I will be ruling side by side.”

“It matters because when the High Septon puts the crowns atop your head, he needs to know what house he is proclaiming as sovereign. He needs to know, and the people need to know. Will House Targaryen be the one taking the throne and continuing onward. Or will it be House Lannister, a new house to sit the throne.” Ned asked.

Ned saw his friend share a look with the Queen. “What would you recommend, Lord Eddard?” the Queen asked.

“Personally I think you should think about choosing a new name for the dynasty. Targaryen and Lannister are great houses yes, they have brought a great many things to Westeros, but for what I think you wish to achieve, you should choose a new name. A new name, a fresh start for Westeros, a name that can bring hope to the people, give them something to look up to, to aspire to be, something that will make them believe again.” Ned answered honestly.

“You do not think either of our house names brings hope?” the Queen asked.

Ned thought carefully of his next few words, when he was sure what he would say, he answered. “It is not that they do not bring hope. But I think that there is far too much extra history with those names. And yes, that might be okay and brilliant for inspiring loyalty, your actions during the course of this war have already inspired songs and loyalty and devotion beyond reason. You do not need the weight of history to make people follow you. You need a name that will make people think of hope, of the desire to heal the wounds of the war, a name that when people think of it, when they say it, they smile and they remember. They remember what it was like to be young and filled with innocence and dreams, of making things better. When hope not fear ruled. When you could look to your neighbour and know that you were both working toward the same thing. This war has brought much damage to the realm. Your people need something that would make them believe again. To believe in the crown, to believe the crown knows what it is doing. But most importantly, they need to believe in themselves, to believe that they can help heal this realm of ours. That is why you need a new name, I believe.”

There was a silence that followed that, Ned did not speak, but instead he watched as the King and Queen shared a look, how they said so many words using on a few facial expressions. He smiled slightly as he observed them, they made a good couple, and they would make a very good King and Queen. It seemed that they had made their decision, for the King looked at Ned then and said. “Luciferus.”

“Luciferus.” Ned replied, raising an eyebrow.

“It means light in Valyrian and the old tongue.” Jaime replied, and Ned was surprised he did not know his foster brother knew how to speak in the old tongue. “And we are going to be showing the people of Westeros the way into the light, it only makes sense that we name our new house after that. It is a statement of purpose after all.”

Ned nodded, it made sense. “Very well, I shall inform the High Septon of the name.” He paused and then asked. “And what of Dragonstone, will Prince Loren become Prince of Dragonstone?”

“Yes.” The Queen answered. “And we’ve decided to appoint Ser Gerion as Castellan of Dragonstone. It seems he would do the best at ensuring that the accounts are managed and that the people are kept fed and clothed. At least until Loren comes of age to rule.”

“And when will his investiture happen?” Ned asked.

“When he turns three and ten, when he is old enough to truly understand what it means.” Jaime stated.

“A wise choice, Your Majesties.” Ned replied.

There was a brief silence and then Jaime spoke, his tone a mix of commanding and questioning. “With the small council, there were some things we wanted to get your advice on, my lord.”

“Whatever you need, Your Majesties.” Ned replied.

“Lord Staunton died during the Battle of the Bridges, Lord Chelstead managed to keep a calm head during the chaos within King’s Landing, Ser Gerold is dead, but Ser Arthur has been named as Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, Lord Stokeworth was not worth the air he breathed, and Varys and Pycelle have proven useful. As Hand of the King, we wished to get your opinion on who should fill the vacancies and whether those who remain should keep their positions.” Jaime stated.

Ned still felt a bit of surprise at the fact that he was Hand of the King, but then he supposed it made sense, Jaime was good with getting the people to like him and Dany was good at managing a household and she was not afraid to speak her mind when the need arose. But neither of them knew how to do the dance of the game as he did. He had written to Ashara after the announcement and she had expressed her support. He missed her, and couldn’t wait to meet her and their son soon. He turned his attention back to the matter at hand. “I think Varys should keep his position as Master of Whispers, he might have missed many things, but he has ensured that the rebels never advanced within the walls of the city, he ensured that they never got to within the city limits during the war. And I think that the counsel he provided to His Majesty, King Aerys was invaluable in helping shape the reforms that the King had proposed. Furthermore, keeping him here means it will be easier to keep an eye on him.” Jaime nodded as did Dany. “As for Pycelle, he is getting on in years, but he can still do his duty. And with you on the throne, Your Majesty, I think will continue to serve loyally. Furthermore, there are plenty of other maesters here who can remind Pycelle that his replacement is just waiting around the corner. Ser Arthur is naturally a very good choice for Lord Commander and a finer Lord Commander I do not think you could find. You will need to decide on who will fill the spots in the Kingsguard left vacant by the deaths of Ser Gerold, Ser Gwayne, Ser Jonothor and Ser Harald. Lord Chelstead should remain as Master of Coin for the time being, I believe he has done a good service to the crown and continued to find means of funding the war effort where lesser men might never have managed.” He paused to think, then continued. “As for the Master of Laws, whilst Staunton’s death is a loss, it is not that great a loss. I believe that either Lord Blackwood or Lord Tarly would make good Master of Laws, they both understand the legal code and both have some knowledge of the changes that King Aerys was planning before his death.” He took a moment to catch his breath, he felt tired all of a sudden, there was a lot more going on that he needed to sort out, but he would address them later. “I think that Lord Wyman Manderly or Paxter Redwyne would do well as Master of Ships. The Velaryons have a boy for a lord, and as such that is not the sort of thing one would want for a powerful position.”

“Very well, thank you for your suggestions, we shall of course consider them with all due propriety.” Jaime responded.

The Queen spoke. “Now, as the realm continues to heal, we shall need your input as to how to ensure that the dreams my father and brother had do not go to waste. We will also need to prepare our own laws to ensure that the reforms that we wish to see implemented are indeed implemented. Tell me what do you make of the legal overhaul, particularly that of the changing of the fifth tax?”

The fifth tax was a tax that had been in place since the reign of King Jaehaerys the Wise, it ensured that a fifth of every source of income was brought into the royal coffers. However, the findings of Lord Chelstead and Ned had made when they had worked on this before the war had shown that there had been years, sometimes even decades when the thing had not been collected properly. There were always those who thought they could get away with skimping from the crown, but they had been caught before the war and punished. Now the reform to change it from a fifth to a fourth made some sense. “I think that it is the right decision. I think that the increased presence of the Royal Guards and Inspectors during the collection process will ensure that it is actually collected in a full amount. Furthermore, with the way the war had panned out, those who had previously expressed opposition to it are now dead or soon to be dead.”

The Queen nodded seemingly satisfied. Jaime had one more question it seemed though. “What would you do with the Vale, Ned? Most of their lords have refused to submit as have most of their immediate heirs. They claim they were fighting for their holy right and they shall not bend. Executing all of those lords means there will be a huge gap in power in the Vale. I do not want Denys Arryn appointing yes men for himself there.”

Ned had thought over this issue a lot on the ride down to King’s Landing and as such he had a solution, or rather a work in progress. “I would assess the candidates of replacement to these lords. I would spend time with them, watching their movements, seeing how they hold themselves, and then I would make a decision. A balance between those that Denys wants and those that actually suit the crown’s purpose would make sense. And that is something I believe holds true for the Stormlands as well.”

“Very well, thank you. You may go, rest, Lord Eddard, you look ready to fall asleep now.” Queen Daenerys said.

Ned bowed, and turned and walked out of the room. As he walked down the hall, his mind was whirring with the thoughts of how to handle the disbursement of the northern army. He would need to return to the north for that, and he would need to make sure the soldiers were paid fairly. He would need look through his accounts for that, to make sure there was enough money. He would also need to handle the billeting of troops of the other lords as well, and make sure no foolish Reachman said something to annoy a Dornishman and vice versa, though the Dornish were lucky he hadn’t asked the King and Queen to have Martell tried for treason, the man had not sent any men to answer the King’s summons. Supposedly because he had been busy fighting pirates during the war, but Ned was not so sure about that. Regardless, the days of the Martells and Dorne getting special treatment were at an end. And if that thought brought him special relish, well perhaps it was deserved. 

He felt his shoulder knock a lady’s shoulder. “My apologies.” He said.

The lady giggled, there was a strong smell of perfume around her. “Not to worry, my lord hand. Actually, I was coming to find you.”

Ned heard the words, and then it hit him. “Varys!” He hissed. He grabbed the eunuch by the arm and dragged him to a corner. “What do you want?”

The eunuch tittered slightly. “I’ve come to give my thanks. I know that you’ve told the King and Queen to keep me on. I thank you for that. I admit that some of the things that have come to light since the war ended have deeply shamed me. How I missed them I do not know.”

Ned did not believe the eunuch whatsoever. He was of the opinion that the eunuch had known exactly what had been happening and that for whatever reason he had decided to let them happen. He did not have enough evidence yet, but he was gathering it. “Well, a man deserves a second chance does he not?”

“Just so.” The eunuch said.

Ned made to move. “Well if that is all, I have other things I need to attend to.”

Before he could move the eunuch grabbed his arm this time, his grip was surprisingly strong. “My lord, I know that you are the one who has pushed for the revoking of the special priveliges granted to House Martell, and I know that Prince Doran has not taken well to this, nor has Prince Oberyn. Of the two the Red Viper is not the man to be concerned about. Prince Doran and his son Prince Quentyn are both dangerous men, and are known to be good with cyvasse.”

“The realm that their Majesties are preparing has no place for anyone to claim to be a Prince if they are not of royal blood. There can only be one royal family, and as such the King and Queen and their son and any other children they have are it. Doran Martell made his bed when he refused to answer King Aerys summons with a proper cohort of men. He let himself and his people down.” Ned responded firmly. “We both know there were no pirates for him to deal with, he was waiting to see who would emerge out on top.”

The eunuch sighed. “Be that as it may, do you really want the King and Queen to antagonise him so soon into their reign? Jon Arryn and the lords of the Vale and Stormlands are going to be executed within a few short days. Antagonise Martell and war could well be out on the field once more.”

“Martell did not add men when there was a war going on, I do not think he would send men to fight when the entire Kingdom would be against him. That is something Prince Oberyn might well attempt, but not Doran Martell. And Oberyn Martell does not control Dorne.” Ned responded.

The eunuch nodded. “Very well, my lord.” the eunuch let go of his arm and walked along, disappearing shortly afterwards.

Ned stood where he was for a moment, thinking through what the eunuch had said. Would Doran Martell risk an open conflict over this, when he had not dared send any men to fight in a war? Ned did not think so. Martell was many things, but he was not mad. At least Ned did not think so. He ran a hand through his hair, then straightened himself out and walked out and made his way back to the Tower of the Hand. He walked up the steps, opened the door and got to the main room. He stood there, memories playing through his head. Learning at Lord Tywin’s side, playing with Jaime and Tytos, and so much more. He sighed, ran his hand over the top of a chair, then made his way up another flight of steps to his rooms. He would get some rest, then proceed with the tasks he needed to do. He could afford to do that much at least.

 

 


	57. Coronation Drums: Jaime XIII

****

Being King was a different experience. There was a lot of things that he had done in the weeks since being proclaimed King that he had never thought he would do. He had sat through council meetings, he had sat through the trials of the Kingsguard, and he had discussed the minutiae of running the kingdom and understood everything that had been said. These were all things that he had not thought he’d have had to have done before the war. It helped, that Dany was there at his side, talking with him not at him about everything that needed to be done and sorted. His wife had a real understanding of how the system worked and where it could be changed and adapted. That was something that was to be expected considering she had grown up in King’s Landing. The coronation was one of those examples.

Jaime had always thought the Iron Throne was only big enough for one person, but he had since discovered that depending on how you sat on it, it could hold two people. That had led to some very fun times. Now though both Jaime and his wife were sat on the throne, before at least a thousand people, as the High Septon spoke. “We are gathered here today, to anoint as joint sovereigns of this most prestigious realm, Jaime and Daenerys Luciferus, two people bonded in marriage and in sickness and health. They are together to bring the Kingdom to the greatest heights it has ever seen. Before the Gods today, I do hereby start the process of anointing the sovereigns of Westeros.” There was a brief pause, then the High Septon nodded and together Jaime and Dany spoke.

“Together, in spirit, mind and body, we do swear we are one and the same. We are the crowned persona of the Seven, the Old Gods, the Drowned God and the Gods of the Forest. We are the realm and the realm is us. We are there to bring peace and prosperity for the realm and to all of its inhabitants be they great or small. We are there to ensure that when war is waged, it is for just cause. We will preserve and uphold tradition and ensure that Westeros continues to advance forward and does not stagnate. We will listen to good counsel and expel those who would lead us down the wrong path. The light is our guardian; hope is what we will bring to the people of Westeros. We swear it before ice and fire, we swear it by the Old Gods and the New.”

Jaime looked at Dany and smiled, his heart still skipped a beat when she smiled back at him. The High Septon nodded and responded. “As representative of the Seven and the chosen representative of the Gods today,” Jaime could have sworn he heard Ned snort, which he found quite funny considering it was Ned who had suggested that the High Septon serve as representative for all the Faiths. “Do hereby recognise your oath and do contend to promise that this shall be done for all time.” The High Septon took the oils from his helper and placed them on Jaime’s right and left shoulder, doing the same to Dany, he then placed water on Jaime and Dany’s foreheads. That done he said. “In the name of the Father, the Old God, and the Old Man of the Sea, I do declare that we shall see the reign of House Luciferus bring light to the world. Bring forth the lords of the realm.”

Mother came forward with Tyrion and baby Loren and kneeled, Tyrion and Mother spoke the oath together. “We of House Lannister and Luciferus do pledge our unending loyalty to you, our sovereigns. We promise to uphold the laws of the land as you state them. We shall ensure that the Westerlands always knows who to go to for protection and for guidance. We do swear that we are always to be the loyalist of vassals.” Jaime and Dany raised their hands and Mother and Tyrion and Loren left. They were followed then by the small council.

Ned as Hand of the King led the small council in their oaths of obeisance. “We are your men, life and limb, from this day to our last. Our service is yours forevermore. For as long as you should require counsel we are here to provide that for you. The realm will be better for your presence on the throne, and we shall endeavour to ensure that it always works for the realm and for yourselves. We swear it by ice and fire, we swear it by the Old Gods and the New.” Again, Jaime and Dany raised their hands and the small council rose and departed. Jaime saw Lord Tarly, the master of laws whisper something to one of his pages, and the boy almost froze on the spot, now that was something.

Next were the various Lord Paramounts and other great lords, they swore their oaths, Jaime and Dany nodded and did the required thing as acknowledgement. Other lords came, knights came, merchants, a whole host of people came to swear fealty, and on and on it went. Jaime found himself getting tired, it was damnably hot in the throne room with so many people packed inside it. He wore red and gold robes, and he could feel the sweat beginning to gather. He found himself looking at the banners spread out across the room, the sigil of House Luciferus, a crowned and winged golden lion on a banner of black and red. He smiled, that was something he would never got tired of seeing, nor was the woman at his side. Eventually, the oaths were all finished, and in a dramatic flourish, the High Septon moved forward and brought forth two crowns. “The oaths have been sworn, the promises made. My lords and ladies, I present to you, the new King and Queen of Westeros. King Jaime and Queen Daenerys of House Luciferus.” The crowns were placed atop their heads, and the gathered lords and ladies cheered and shouted their approval.

Jaime and Dany raised their hands to wave, Jaime noticed that Dany’s crown was the crown that Queen Rhaenyra had worn as had her father before, a circlet with diamonds and rubies encrusted inside it. Jaime’s own crown was slightly more elaborate, golden crown, with seven points for the Kingdom, with gold and ruby diamonds, a lion and a dragon dancing on the front, a crown for a King as Dany said. He stood up alongside his wife as was dictated and spoke. “Thank you all for coming. Today marks the start of a new age, no longer shall the shackles of the past hold us down. From now onwards, we move forward, we move forward together. The light is at the end of the tunnel, and we shall move forward together as one to clasp it and bring it to Westeros.” There was a roar at that, then Dany raised her hand and the doors opened and the lords and ladies were allowed to funnel out to get changed into new clothes. Not them though, they remained where they were, preparing for the feast to come.

Jaime took a breath as the last of the lords filed out of the room, he turned to look at his wife and smirked. “You know, I think all of this would be worth it, if only to see the look on someone like Tarly’s face if he ever learned what we’d done on the throne almost an hour before this whole thing happened.”

Dany laughed and swatted him, though her cheeks were slightly flushed. “I think he’d probably be horrified. As would Ned.”

Jaime laughed. “I think Ned’s done more dangerous things since Ashara’s been here than he would otherwise do.” He smirked at the memory of seeing his brother’s shirt incredibly ruffled coming out of the godswood the other day. He moved toward his wife and whispered. “I can’t wait to take all of this off of you.”

His wife smiled and replied. “And I can’t wait to see you without any of this.” She held up the robes. They kissed then, and as they started moving back toward the throne, there was a quiet cough.

Jaime broke off the kiss and saw Ser Arthur standing there, the Lord Commander dressed in gleaming armour. “I am sorry to interrupt Your Majesties, but the first lords and ladies shall be re-entering the room in roughly a moment.”

Jaime grumbled at that, but Dany put a hand on his arm and said. “Thank you, Ser Arthur we shall present ourselves properly.” With that Dany took his hand and led him to the front table where they would be seated. The throne not really being practical for eating meals, though as he looked at his wife, at her flushed face and her dress, he thought there was something a little tastier that he would rather be trying. He felt a stiffness down below and quickly pushed the thought from his mind. It would not do, after all. They sat down, and then stood up as protocol dictated, accompanied by the Kingsguard they walked out of the room from the backway as the doors opened and the lords and ladies entered.

They stood in a shadowed alcove, watching the lords and ladies talking as they entered the throne room. Lord Chelstead seemed oddly enamoured with Lady Stokeworth and Jaime had to repress a snort at seeing the old man’s failed attempts at flirting. Lord Redwyne demonstrated ample tact in allowing his nephew, Lord Willas to accompany Lady Lyanna into the throne room first. Ned’s sister was something completely different, filled with fire and spirit, she and Cersei had gotten along quite well, surprisingly. Ser Barristan appeared then and said. “They are ready for you, Your Majesties.” Jaime looked at Dany who smiled at him, he took her hand in his and together they made their way to the throne room.

As one, everyone stood when they entered, all eyes were on them, and Jaime had to admit that he quite liked it. There was something about being the centre of attention as King that he quite liked. They nodded to various people as they made their way to the high table, the throne was there a reminder of why they were here and who they were. Jaime and Dany turned and looked at all those gathered, there were roughly a million celebrations going on throughout the kingdom today, Jaime knew that, Varys had reported it in the council meeting the other day. He smiled, and said. “Thank you all. Today, we begin a new chapter in this great country’s history. Today we move forward and toward a better present and future. There will be time for toasts and for talking during the meal, but for now, let us eat.” There was a loud cheer and he and Dany sat down, others took their places as well.

The first course was duck rolls with sauce, which was simply delightful, he hadn’t realised how hungry he had actually been until he’d had his fourth roll. Dany giggled. “Someone’s built up an appetite.”

“This King business is hard work.” Jaime replied putting some salad on his wife’s plate. “After all, we’ve got to stand in these elaborate robes and listen to empty words all day sometimes. I think this is the least they could do to ensure we’re happy to do this nonsense.”

His wife giggled again. “True.”

He finished with the fifth roll and sat back, sighing in contentment. A contentment that lasted for only a moment, for Lord Tarly spoke his voice curt. “Your Majesties, forgive me for the intrusion, but I feel that this was a matter of grave importance.”

Jaime closed his eyes for a moment, then answered. “Then speak, my lord.”

“On the matter of Lord Royce, are you sure you wish to ensure that he is put to death at the same time as the other traitors? The man did provide some useful information that has allowed the men of the Gold Cloaks to root out several potential dissenters within the city.” Tarly said, though Jaime had the idea that this was more Lord Willas speaking than Lord Tarly, his future goodbrother had been quite vocal about protecting the Royces for some reason.

“I am sure.” Jaime said, looked at Dany who nodded, then added. “We are sure. Royce might have provided useful information, but he is still a traitor. And the punishment for treason is death.”

Lord Tarly nodded. “Very well, Your Majesties.” The man fell blissfully silent after that. The next course of chicken and lamb with an assortment of vegetables and rice and noodles, was placed before them.

Jaime tucked into the meal with a hearty relish, he ate and ate, and drank, and occasionally listened to the conversations his wife was having with various ministers or nobles, but really he was focused on the food before him. It tasted absolutely amazing, he would have to give the cooks a raise in their pay, to make sure they continued to cook food that was this good. Eventually, the food was gone from his plate, and he took some time to take a breath and look around the room. He saw Ned and Ashara talking to Mother, he saw Cersei and Lord Edmure talking about something quite heartily, judging by how flushed Cersei looked. Other lords were discussing things that were perhaps pertinent to them, which was fine, he knew Varys or Ned or Gerion would inform him of anything remotely treasonous. Considering all that had happened recently, he felt content, he was happy, his wife and son were healthy and happy, and so he was as well. The Kingdom was healing, slowly but surely, it had only been three moons since the Battle of the Bridges, but things were progressing. “Your Majesty?” A voice drew him away from his musings, he looked at the source and found himself looking at Jon Connington, internally he groaned.

Externally he smiled and asked. “Lord Connington, how might I be of service?”

Lord Connington was a man who had a good heart, but could be quite annoying as he pushed quite hard, quite often. “I wanted to know whether you had reached a decision on the lands of the marches. Dondarrion, Cafferen, Swann, Fell, Grandison, all are to be executed on the morrow, and their lands confiscated, their heirs died during the fighting, leaving a power vacuum in that part of the Stormlands is not something that would bode well for anyone, nor would leaving Storm’s End vacant.”

Jaime had considered demolishing Storm’s End, the seat was nothing more than a reminder of what a traitor had done, but Dany and Ned had convinced him that perhaps Storm’s End could be used as a place to garrison soldiers loyal to the crown. Connington might be loyal, but he had always been more loyal to King Rhaegar than anyone else, and having men loyal to the crown to watch over him couldn’t help. Of course, Jaime had not yet announced this and so, was hesitant to do so just now. Instead he focused on the first question that Connington had asked. “House Selmy shall gain half of Dondarrion’s lands, the other half shall belong to the crown, Blackhaven shall be a garrison for the crown. Stonehelm will go to Balon Swann, a young man who fought bravely for the crown against the rebels, though he shall not have all of his lands or income. Fell and Grandisons castles are being torn down and their land taken for the crown. Their houses will die with their lords and heirs. Cafferen will keep a quarter of their lands, and Ser Borros Cafferen shall become Lord Cafferen.” Borros Cafferen was a fool, and the maester was a Lannister cousin, meaning that the crown would effectively control Cafferen lands and holdings.

“And Storm’s End?” Connington pressed.

“Storm’s End is a matter to be decided after due consideration.” Jaime said.

Connington nodded, he might not have liked Jaime’s answer but he accepted it and therefore did not pursue it anymore, bowing before him and getting up and moving on. Jaime turned to his plate and found a third course presented, this time it was slow cooked beef with potatoes. He smiled, and leaned over to his wife and whispered. “I love you.” This was his favourite dish, he saw Dany smile, then he turned back to the food and tucked in.

As he finished, a spoon hit a glass, and Uncle Gerion stood up, his face flushed with drink. His words were clear however. “I think that the time has come for a toast, with permission of course?” Jaime looked at Dany and they both nodded. Uncle Gerion continued. “We are entering a new age, there are two young monarchs on the throne, one who is a hero of the war. We have two monarchs who are willing to listen and see reason, but also two monarchs who are willing to hold their ground and defend their position. They are the future, and it looks bright, brighter than it has done for many years. I say, we are very lucky to have you as our King and Queen, Your Majesties.” Uncle Gerion raised his glass and there was a loud roar of approval at that.

Jaime raised his glass in toast, and Dany got up then. “Thank you, Uncle Gerion.” She looked around the room. “And thank you to all of you, my lords and ladies for coming. The realm is still healing from a damaging war. And on the morrow, we shall send the traitors responsible for it to their deaths. That is a small justice for those who died fighting for something they believed in. My husband and I,” and here Dany took hold of his hand, and he stood up. “Promise that we shall do all in our power to bring Westeros to a great height. For there is only one Kingdom, and we are stronger when we are together, not apart.”

“Rightly so!” Came the shout.

“Long Live The King and Queen” came another shout. There was a lot of that, and Jaime drank it all in, his hand in Dany’s, he liked this. He would earn this.

 

 

 


	58. Weddings: Ned XV

****

Ned took a breath and knocked. “Enter.” Came the response, he turned the handle and walked in, and found himself temporarily stunned. His sister had her dress on, a blue and silver one, her hair was done in a simple braid, and her cheeks were rosy, she smiled when she turned and saw him. “Ned, how do I look?”

Ned smiled. “You look beautiful, Lord Willas is a lucky man.” His sister blushed and turned back to sorting something out with her dress. Ned stood there for a moment simply looking at her and wondering when his sister had grown up? He still remembered the little girl who always used to be underfoot, chasing after him and Brandon, and playing with swords, and doing all sorts of things. He ran a hand through his hair and asked. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“No, it’s okay, thank you though.” Lyanna replied, she stopped fiddling with her dress, looking at him through the mirror she asked. “Did you come to make sure I wasn’t having second thoughts?” It was a joke, Ned knew, he had seen Lyanna with Lord Willas and he knew his sister was smitten, Lord Willas was a very smart and conscientious man, and he seemed to enjoy Lyanna’s unique style of humour. However, her question did give him an opening.

“How are you feeling Lya?” His sister’s eyebrows shot up. “Are you comfortable with everything? I know that this was arranged during the war, but are you okay with it all?”

Lyanna turned around then, and faced him, her eyes had a determined glint to them. “I am quite comfortable with what’s going to happen, Ned, thank you. I know that this was a betrothal and marriage of convenience originally, but I’ve gotten to know Lord Willas in the time I’ve been here and I quite like him.” His sister took a breath suggesting she had spent some time thinking about this. “He’s not like some of the other men or boys who came to court me at Winterfell. He actually pays attention to what I say, and why I think what I think. He’s not just interested in my name, and yes I know that’s because he comes from a great house as well, but I also know it’s because he actually wants to get to know me. He’s got similar interests to me as well, and I think that we have a good base to start from.”

Ned nodded and smiled. “Then that is all for the good. You know what will happen during the wedding ceremony, there will be two sets of vows that will need to be exchanged, and there will be two declarations at the end of the ceremony. Once both are done then you are officially man and wife.”

Lyanna stood up, took hold of his hands and said. “I know, Ned, I have been paying attention.”

Ned laughed abashed. “Sorry, just making sure.” Jaime and Daenerys had been quite clear about this, the marriage between Lyanna and Lord Willas would be the first of many marriages between followers of the Seven and the Old Gods, and so would have two sets of vows, and declarations of what the vows meant. It was part of their new role as heads of the Seven and the Old Gods, and as such was a new law that had come into being. Any resistance to it had been muted. Especially since so many of the former rebels had been those who had turned against the ideals of both faiths.

Lyanna grinned. “You’re more nervous than I am, Ned, that’s sweet, but I promise you, everything’s going to be fine. I won’t forget what I have to say, and I won’t do anything embarrassing, I’m not a child anymore.”

Ned leaned forward and kissed his sister’s forehead. “I know.” They smiled at one another, then the bells began to toll, indicating that it was time. He extended his arm, and Lyanna linked her arm with his and together they walked out of her room, down the hallway, out onto the bridge, over the bridge, then into the Godswood, the northmen were all present, as was most of the court, the Godswood seemed packed, and it was. The High Septon looked uncomfortable amongst the trees of the godswood, but Jaime, dressed in red and gold, his crown atop his head, and Blackfyre strapped to his back, seemed every inch the King he was.

The High Septon nodded to Lord Willas, who wore green and gold, a rose quite prominently present on his doublet. “Who comes?” The young man’s voice did not waver which impressed Ned.

“Lady Lyanna of House Stark. Who claims her?” Ned answered.

“Lord Willas of House Tyrell.” Lord Willas replied.

Ned led Lyanna to stand before the heart tree and stepped back. The heart tree’s eyes bled red as they always did, but here there was a different tint to the red. The High Septon spoke. “We are gathered here today, for this most important of unions. The marriage of a follower of the Old Gods and a follower of the Seven. We come to celebrate this union, and we come to ensure peace throughout the Kingdom. A united Westeros, is a strong Westeros.” Ned saw Jaime smile at this and knew that the High Septon had been told to say that. That was good, it meant his brother was learning. The High Septon continued. “There is much that must be done today, but the principle is the same as it always is. The two before me have vows to say, I would ask that they say them.”

As was custom across the religions, the man spoke first. “I, Willas of House Tyrell, do promise that from this day until my last, I shall protect you and love you, I will listen to your counsel and your good days and your bad, I will provide for you, and hold you. You are mine and I am yours from this day to my last, I swear this by the old gods and the new.”

Lyanna replied. “I, Lyanna of House Stark promise that from this day until my last, I shall love you, provide counsel, listen to you, protect you and care for you in your good days and bad, I will provide for you and hold you. You are mine and I am yours, from this day to my last. I swear this by the old gods and the new.”

Ned handed a ring to Lyanna and watched as Lord Willas’s uncle handed him his ring, the rings were exchanged and placed on the other’s finger. The High Septon spoke once more. “Marriage is a most sacred bond, it is that which ties man to woman, husband to wife, and ensures that there is peace and stability throughout the realm. We have come from a time of war, and now more than ever we need stable homes and families. Consequently, we shall now ensure that the traditions of the realm are followed.” This was definitely Jaime’s words coming through, though the High Septon seemed less ill at ease saying these words. Indeed, it seemed as though he had grown more comfortable if his relaxed posture was anything to go by. “I will ask for the two before me to begin the vows.”

For a moment, it seemed as though Lyanna would not speak, but she took a breath and started speaking. “I, Lyanna of House Stark, do swear before the Father to provide, before the Mother to love, before the Crone to guide, before the Warrior to defend, before the Smith to make, before the Maiden to be pure, and before the Stranger to stand strong with you and for you, my lord husband. I swear this, with all my heart.”

Lord Willas nodded and replied. “I, Willas of House Tyrell, do swear before the Father to provide, before the Mother to love, before the Crone to instruct, before the Warrior to protect, before the Smith to make, before the Crone to listen and to rule, before the Maiden to be faithful and before the Stranger to stand strong with you and for you, my lady wife. I swear this with all my heart.”

The High Septon smiled. “The vows have been said. Let us proceed.” Ned stepped forward to take Lyanna’s bridal cloak as Lord Willas removed it and placed the gold and green of House Tyrell on her shoulders. As he held the grey cloak of Winterfell, and watched his sister kiss her husband, he felt an odd sense of loss. His sister was married, a woman grown, she would not be in Winterfell anymore. He took a breath and stood back, and allowed the High Septon to speak. “The marriage ceremony is complete, these two are now man and wife, husband and lady. Let us move forward into a new time.” A cheer went out at that, and Lord Willas and Lyanna led the party to the Red Keep. Ned watched them go, a heaviness in his stomach, a heaviness which was replaced with love when he felt Ashara’s arm link with his.

“Are you okay, my love?” His wife asked, and by gods he had missed her, he’d made love to her several times over the past two weeks, and each time he felt as though he was just getting started.

“I am, my love.” Ned responded. The thought of their son Rickon being cared for in Winterfell by Old Nan and the servants a painful one, but one that was necessary. Their son might be able to walk, but he was still too young to come to King’s Landing. He watched as the other guests started making their way to the Red Keep, and he said. “Come we should go as well.”

They walked in silence for a moment, Ned taking some time to admire his wife, she’d done her hair into an elaborate do, all twists and turns, which he would have a lot of fun undoing later on, she looked stunning, her dress clinging to her in a way that drove him somewhat mad with desire. She smiled and he knew she knew. She whispered. “You know if you keep looking at me like that, you might not make it back to the Red Keep, my love.”

Ned leaned in, kissed her and replied. “I’m hoping for that.” Ashara laughed, and he felt his attraction push blood down his body. “You’re a monster, my love.” He whispered and Ashara laughed again. They kept walking, making their way to the throne room, where the bride and groom were seated, the King and Queen next to them. Ned and Ashara took their places to the right of the bride and groom.

The King stood then and the room fell silent. “My lords and ladies. I wish to propose a toast to Lord Willas and Lady Lyanna, theirs is a marriage that has come at a time when the realm is healing. You are both marrying people who are good and kind of heart and smart. You will be more than a match for one another.” Both Lord Willas and Lyanna laughed at that, the King smiled and said. “To Lord and Lady Tyrell.” There was a toast to that, then the food was served.

Ned enjoyed the starter, but he was not really focusing on it too much, he was listening to the conversations around him, that’s how they’d decided to implement the quiet stop and search at the Mud Gate to ensure there were no weapons being smuggled in. It had worked and they’d found the fools trying to smuggle weapons into King’s Landing. Now as he listened he picked up snippets about the food, about the latest vintages of wine, about some sort of confrontation happening on the markets in Braavos-he would need to do more reading into that- generally conversation was genial, and so he relaxed a little. The food was replaced with some more and he tucked in.

“I think that the drawings of the new sheriffs of Blackhaven and other newly acquired royal lands is a smart move by His Majesty. I think previous sheriffs had not done their duty properly, and so we had the situation that we had. What do you think, Lord Eddard?” The question drew him out of his own enjoyment of the food, and he was irritated by this, but found his irritation disappear when he saw that it was Lord Dayne who was asking him the question. Dayne and Connington were looking at him expectantly.

“I agree, my lord. I think that the current crop of Sheriffs have put their duty to the crown before any petty grievances that they might have with other officials within the region. Such a thing can only be good for the realm.” Ned said, seeing Connington’s eyebrows rise, he asked. “Do you not agree, my lord Connington?”

Connington was a man who had a lot of issues, he was one of King Rhaegar’s most devoted friends, but had not liked the King’s wife, he had fought alongside the King during the war, and had been badly wounded and had nearly tried to kill Robert Baratheon whilst half dead himself. Since then he had been given Lord Paramountcy of the Stormlands and had seen his own lands expanded greatly, he spent more time in Griffin’s Roost now than he had done before the war, and Ned knew why that was. Connington’s voice was soft when he replied. “I think Their Majesties have done a very sensible thing. I merely think that some of the sheriffs do not have that high of a standard when it comes to their deputies.”

Ned forced down a groan, this was an old argument. One that Connington had made before the King and Queen at their last court session a week ago, and he had been promptly dismissed, the evidence countered him greatly. “My lord,” Ned began, trying to keep his voice calm. “I believe that this is an old and tired argument. The Sheriffs have brought in a greater amount of revenue and profit than any previous intake in the past two moons than before. The system is working, if there are a few bad apples they have been weeded out and destroyed.”

Connington looked as though he was going to say something in response, but then clearly decided against it. The man excused himself and moved to go elsewhere within the throne room. Ned watched him leave, his goodbrother snorting. “I think he has gotten lost amongst the Stormlands, he does a good job, but he has no purpose now that King Rhaegar is dead. He is lost.”

Ned nodded. “A shame, perhaps having him marry would do him better than to leave him alone like this?”

Ashara turned to speak then, and it seemed from her response that she had been listening. “I do not think Lord Connington will ever marry.”

Ned quirked an eyebrow and asked. “Why do you say that?”

Ashara grinned. “His ability to love died when King Rhaegar did, and I believe that he is more than happy to have his cousin succeed him when the time comes.”

Ned thought over this and then the realisation of what his wife had said hit him and he nearly choked on air, he quickly coughed and took a deep gulp of water. “Well, then perhaps asking the King and Queen for suggestions would do no good then.”

“Indeed.” Lord Dayne said. “If you excuse me, I must go.” The man got up and walked away elsewhere. Ned watched his goodbrother go and then turned to his wife and asked.

“Is he okay?”

Ashara raised and lowered a shoulder. “I think he is growing tired and impatient of waiting around for Doran to make his decision. The man did not answer the King’s summons when it came to war, and now it seems he is dithering about coming to court. Prince Quentyn however has made a good impression and seems more than happy to comply with the King and Queen’s requests, if it means bringing more trade to Dorne.”

Ned looked at Prince Quentyn. The young man had come a few days ago and sworn fealty to the King and Queen on behalf of his father, he had slotted in well at court, a studious fellow, but one who knew how to take a joke and make one as well. He had become friends with Lord Edmure and Lady Cersei, and was currently making them laugh. “What do you make of Prince Quentyn?” He asked his wife.

Ashara’s lips pursed then, and her eyes narrowed as she looked at the man in question, Ned felt like kissing her then, but he kept his hands clasped together on his lap and watched and she added up or weighed the considerations before answering. “I think he will make a better lord than his father. Doran Martell is too cautious and too slow, things are changing. Quentyn knows this and he knows that sometimes pride must be sacrificed for change. He wants to make Dorne a place for trade, to attract the rest of the realm to it. He will be an invaluable ally for the crown.”

As was often the case, Ned found that their opinions matched up and he smiled. “Then I await the day when he becomes Lord of Dorne.” Ashara nodded.

The King stood up then, and his skin looked slightly flushed. “The vows have been exchanged, the food has been eaten, the wine has been drunk, my lords and ladies, I think it is time for the bedding!” a roar went up at that and soon enough Ned saw Lyanna and Lord Willas being carried off to what would be their rooms from now on for a time.

Ned leaned into whisper to his wife. “Do you remember our own bedding?”

Ashara smiled and ran her hand down his shirt, inching ever lower. “Oh, I remember it very well.”

Ned’s breath hitched as her hand ran over his front. “Would you like a second go this time around?”

His wife smiled wickedly, her hand resting quite firmly on his front. “I would love a second go.”

Ned thanks the gods that the others had all but gone, for he took his wife’s hand and stood up and hurried out of the hall back to the tower, his wife laughing all the while, until he started kissing her, then she started moaning with pleasure.


	59. Last Caress: Daenerys I

The crown was a heavy burden to bear, she had seen how it had affected her father, and how it had started to affect her brother. That was why she was glad she had someone to share the burden with, someone she loved more than anyone else in the world-apart from Loren- and someone she knew she could count on no matter what. A year into being King and Queen, Dany thought that she and Jaime were doing a good if not great job of it all. Taxes were at a relatively stable level, income was high, the distribution of lands after the war had meant that the peasantry now had more benevolent lords looking after them, which had increased productivity, consequently making the initial legal and economic changes that they’d implemented well received. Dany wasn’t foolish enough to believe that the good times would last forever, and she and Jaime were planning for that time, but for now, things were good and she was enjoying that.

She smiled as Jaime wrapped his arms around her. “Morning.” He whispered.

“Morning.” Dany replied. She turned and looked at her husband, Jaime had started growing a beard soon after his sixteenth nameday, and it looked good on him, it made him seem a lot more rugged, she liked it. “Did you have a good rest?” She asked, grinning, thinking of what they’d done last night, after the celebrations for her nameday had ended.

Her husband clearly remembered just as well as she did for he grinned. “Like a baby.” He kissed her and whispered. “I think they might have heard us all the way in Dorne. Well heard you anyway.” He kissed her neck. “I never knew you could be so loud.”

Dany giggled and swatted her husband on the arm. “Jaime!”

“It’s true!” Jaime protested. “But I can’t complain, I do love it when you scream.”

Dany giggled. “I don’t think Ser Barristan will be able to look me in the eyes today, not after last night.” Ser Barristan had been tasked with standing outside their rooms to guard it alongside Ser Matthew Melcolm, both men were quite prudish, if Dany were being honest, and she wondered what they did for fun.

Jaime laughed. “I think Ser Barristan would never look at either of us in the eye again, not once the crown was placed atop our heads.” Dany heard a slight tinge of sadness there, and her heart tinged, she knew there were times when Jaime missed the easiness with which he could do things before. She knew that he loved that people would flock to them both, as they had the time when they’d gone into the city again, but she knew that there was a part of him that missed the easiness of being a soldier. She kissed his neck and he sighed. “What is it that we have to do today?”

Dany pulled back slightly, thinking over the list in her head. “Well we have to write those letters to all the guests who attended the weddings of both Lord and Lady Tyrell and Cersei and Lord Edmure. Then you’ve got to head over to Crackclaw Point to meet with the tribal leaders there, and I’ve got to hold court.”

Jaime groaned. “Why do we have to write letters to these people? It’s wasn’t our wedding they attended. I know Cersei, she and Edmure have probably already sent out their thank yous, and considering their wedding was a good two moons ago, I wouldn’t be surprised. Wouldn’t it be a bit silly for us to send out our own thank you letters now?”

“Their wedding was only a moon ago.” Dany said, she remembered because of what she and Jaime had done once the guests had left, and that was when she became convinced that she was with child again, she hadn’t told anyone yet, she didn’t want to spoil things. “Besides, it’s not just thank you we would be saying. We’d also be reminding the guests of their commitment to continuing the policy pathway that we have pursued, and ensuring that they do not stray from it.”

Jaime sighed. “I suppose so, that is a fair enough point, after all Lord Celtigar did keep harping on about something to do with the shoal tax the last time he was here. I think he’s forgotten that Shoal has been included under the natural features tax for some ten moons now. Then again that old man is so stupid, I think he might’ve forgotten his own name if it weren’t for the girl he calls a wife attending to him.”

Dany giggled. “What is that girl’s name? She never did tell me. Though I think she might’ve had a crush on Tyrion.” She had thought that quite sweet, considering how some of the courtiers whispered about Tyrion’s appearance and how he was not right for the position of Lord of Casterly Rock, despite the fact that he was twice as smart as most of the lords who had been present at his sister’s wedding.

Jaime grinned. She knew he appreciated it when people appreciated his brother for who he was, not what he was. “I think her name was Shaera, I’m not sure. I think she comes from Crackclaw Point though, which was why I was so surprised that she and Celtigar were a thing. That man might have Valyrian heritage but he plays the Andal card more often than any knight I’ve ever met from the Vale, and that’s saying something.”

Dany laughed. “My father always used to say the same thing as well.” She paused then, a slight twinge of grief filtering through, she was not in mourning anymore, hadn’t been for some time, but occasionally the odd twinge of something would come through.

As always, Jaime was there, pressing a kiss to her forehead and murmuring. “I know, Celtigar is eccentric, but I am sure it’s something we can handle.”

Dany smiled, Jaime always knew what to say to get her away from the ledge of grief, whenever it threatened to come onto her unsuspectingly. “This is very true. Now, we had best get changed and ready, we’ve got a busy day.”

Jaime sighed. “I know.” Dany kissed his lips, revelling in how they tasted, and then got up, wrapping a sheet around herself, her maids entered and helped her dress. She chose to wear a silver strapless dress with the winged and crowned lion prominent in its centre, Jaime whistled as she turned to show him. “Now I just want to rip that dress off of you.” He whispered, his voice sounded very husky.

Dany felt something flutter inside her and replied. “Well you can’t, not now anyway.”

She moved to the sink and brushed her teeth, and when she returned to the room, Loren was there on the bed babbling away to Jaime, she stood there for a moment watching father and son play and joke, when Jaime looked up at her and smiled, she smiled back and said. “Well if it isn’t my favourite boy in the whole world.” Loren gurgled holding out his arms to her.

“Mama!” He squealed.

Dany picked her son up and held him. “And what are we up to this morning then sweetling?”

“Going riding, Mama!” Her son said smiling. “With Ser Oswell!” Dany smiled, for all his gruffness, Ser Oswell was surprisingly good with Loren, her son was simply fascinated with the knight.

“Now remember to be careful. Ser Oswell might be a great knight, but he is no match for you on a horse. We don’t want him feeling sad, now do we?” Dany said

Loren nodded solemnly. “Yes, Mama.” Jaime was up and getting changed himself, he made his way back into the room, smiling. They both knew that what Loren saw as riding was really just going round on a horse toy that had been designed by Tyrion a few moons back, ever since Loren had been able to crawl he’d been obsessed with being able to ride. It was as if it were some sort of genetic thing, considering what Jaime had told her about himself.

“Well, I need to get going. These meetings aren’t going to happen by themselves.” Jaime said. “I’ll see you both later.” Jaime kissed her on the lips, before kissing their son on the cheek.

“Bye Papa.” Loren said waving as he did so.

“Bye son.” Jaime replied walking out of the room, Dany did a quick think of who was on guard duty today and smiled, Ser Arthur and Ser Barristan would be accompanying her husband to Crackclaw Point and whilst Ser Barristan might be getting on in years, but he was still one of the finest swordsman in the realm and an astute commander as well.

Loren’s voice interrupted her thoughts. “Mama, read to me?”

“What do you want to read, sweetling?” Dany asked.

“Florian the Knight!” Loren replied enthusiastically.

Dany smiled. “Okay, come then, let us read about Florian the Knight.” She placed her son on the bed, and grabbed one of the lighter tomes that was on the table, she came to settle down next to her son, who curled up next to her. She opened up the book and read from the beginning. “This is a story about a young man who grew to fame, as a great knight and lord, not because he wished it, but because he decided that the world had to be forced to change if it were to improve and not go to evil. This is the story of Florian the Knight.”

Loren clapped his hands in excitement. Dany continued. “Florian was born in what was then known as Knight’s Town, it is located in the northern Crownlands, he was born to a Lord and a Lady, though they died when he was but a child. Florian was raised by his brother and his brother’s wife, they taught him to value the most important things. Love and family. Florian loved his brother and his brother’s wife very much, and when he grew up be a strong young man, he learned how to fight, so that he could defend them.”

“Like I will do for you and Papa, Mama!” Loren said.

Dany kissed her son’s head and said. “I know you will, sweetling. Florian trained every morning and every evening, he trained when he was sore and when he was unwell, he trained throughout the rain and the sun. He trained a lot.” Dany wasn’t sure what the purpose of this was, but it seemed to be encouraging young boys to train without reason, something that would only harm them. “Eventually, he was good enough to fight against the evil knight who had been hurting his brother for some time.”

Dany looked at her son, and saw that he was looking at her with wide eyes, his attention purely focused on her, she felt her heart swell a little, dressed in red and gold, his hair combed, he looked so very cute and sweet, Dany hoped he would remain that way always. Loren poked her arm. “Going, Mama!”

Dany smiled and continued. “Florian challenged the knight, who as all evil men do, laughed and said that Florian could not possibly beat him. But Florian was smart, he had watched the knight and had seen where he was not strong. He fought the knight and after much clanging of steel and many shouts of joy and sadness and rage, he defeated the knight.” Loren clapped happily. “And because Florian was a kind soul he allowed the knight to live, but the knight had to promise not to take up arms against him. The knight beaten as he was, promised not to. And so began the legend of Florian the Knight.”

Loren clapped excitedly, and Dany knew he was about to ask for more when there was a knock on the door. “Enter.” Dany said. The door opened and Lady Melessa Tarly, one of her ladies in waiting entered.

“Forgive me, Your Majesty, but it is time for the court meetings.” The lady said, head bowed.

Dany sighed and said. “Of course.” She kissed her son’s cheek and said. “We shall read about Florian another time, sweetling.”

Loren did not pout, he did not even seem sad, he merely nodded and said. “Kay, Mama.” Doris, the servant came and took him to the nursery, where she knew Ser Oswell would be. Dany got up, straightened her dress, placed the crown atop her head and walked out of the room, Tarly, and Ser Malcolm and Ser Boremund Rivers of the Kingsguard accompanied her.

They walked in silence before the doors of the throne room were opened to her, the lords and ladies present all fell silent, as she walked down the hall and ascended the throne. Ser Malcolm and Ser Boremund took positions at the foot of the throne. The thing was so big that she knew she looked small compared to it. She took a breath then nodded to the herald who spoke. “Today, Her Majesty, Queen Daenerys, first of her name, shall hold court, those who have brought their grievances before the Queen may now speak. The first person on the list, is Ser Benjen Storm, Knight of Seven Vales.”

Ser Benjen had a black as night beard, and small green eyes, he bowed before the throne and then spoke. “Your Majesty, I come asking for aid in my grievance. There are wolves plaguing the land around my holdfast, they are culling my livestock and reducing my ability to feed my family and my people. However, because of the new regulations about hunting, I need several permits to be able to, and as such none of my applications have had a reply.”

“How many have you submitted and when did you submit them?” Dany asked, she knew why Jaime had implemented these new hunting laws, it was to prevent the greatest loss of animal life that they could, and ensure that there was still a natural order to the world around them. Of course wolves in the Stormlands much like the people there hardly seemed to pay attention.

Ser Benjen seemed slightly perturbed by this question. “Three in four moons, and my last one was submitted a week ago. Your Majesty, I think there must be something that can be done.”

Dany had not seen any such application and Jaime had not mentioned anything to her, and she knew that he would have considering the subject matter. She looked at Lord Tarly who moved his head a fraction, indicating that nothing had been put through to him either. “Your request has duly been noted, Ser, I shall address it forthwith.” The knight bowed, gave his thanks and moved into the crowd once more.

The herald moved forward then and spoke once more. “And now, Prince Doran Martell, has come forth.” A hushed murmuring followed the herald’s words. Martell had sent his son in his stead to swear fealty and to witness the weddings, but Prince Quentyn had been summoned home to Sunspear and what he had termed urgent business, the man had seemed nervous when he had received the summons and had not really said much. Now, here stood his father. Prince Doran was tall, taller than his son, slim, with short black hair, piercing eyes and a slight limp, he bowed before the throne.

“Lord Doran, how might I help you?” Dany asked.

Doran Martell rose, his posture slightly rigid. “Thank you for allowing me to come here today, Your Majesty. I have come to address an issue that I believe is most pressing for the realm. I have come to ensure that my people are not forgotten in the rush for reform.” Dany said nothing, she knew that with people like Doran Martell, it was best to remain silent, they would answer for themselves eventually. Sure enough, after a moment, Martell spoke, his tone hinted at his anger. “I have come to ask why Your Majesty has seen fit to remove the Princely title of House Martell considering the treaties that had been signed previously to confirm it.”

A hush filled the room, Dany was impressed by the man’s brazenness, but that was about it, she knew that sooner or later this would come up, she also knew that the man’s son had no issues with why the Princely title had been removed. She took a breath, thinking through the legal arguments that Tarly and Ned had found and the reasons that Jaime had presented to her. “Firstly, those treaties were made on the basis that House Martell and Dorne would come to aid the throne as and when help was requested. Three rebellions by the Blackfyres and the previous war showed that the Martells have not taken this seriously. You did not show a lick of intention of aiding the throne during the previous war, that was the first infraction you made.” Martell opened his mouth to speak, and Dany pressed on. “Secondly, you have often been short or late in paying taxes, and this has been a trend since roughly two hundred and sixty after the conquest. The rates when they have been paid have come with some sort of condition. That is another infraction on the treaties signed.” Martell looked lost and Dany knew he was finished. “Thirdly and finally, there can only be one family with Princely titles in it and that is the Royal Family. Daeron the Good might have felt differently, but that was in another time, and things have changed considerably. Your priveliges have been lost through a combination of your own arrogance and the necessity of the throne.”

She stared at Martell, daring him to protest, daring him to say something that could have him removed and Quentyn placed on the Lordship of Sunspear, instead all he asked was. “What will our title be?”

“Lord of Sunspear, and Lord Paramount of Dorne. However, come late to the aid of the throne again, and you will not have a title or a castle. Furthermore, your son Prince Quentyn is to come and serve here as a member of the court.” Dany stated.

Doran Martell sighed, Dany suspected this was not the end of that. He got onto bended knee and said. “Very well Your Majesty, your wish is my command. I accept this with a heavy heart and promise to do better.”

“Your pledge is acknowledged, now rise Lord Doran.” Dany stated.

 


	60. Crackclaw: Jaime XIV

****

The journey to Crackclaw Point took roughly a week, in good weather, with winter here, it took slightly longer. Jaime accompanied by two members of the Kingsguard and forty other men of the household guard knew that it would take longer to get there. They stopped off at various holdfasts on their way there as well, which added time to their journey. Jaime did not quite mind that, for it was good to get a sense of what the people of the crownlands thought of the changes he and Dany had brought to the kingdom, independently of court. The journey allowed him to see how the people of the realm were adapting. They spoke confidently of the coming economic benefits, and of the increased share of the bounty that they were already experiencing. So far, there had been few true complaints, though Jaime wondered whether that would always be the case or not. Regardless, he took the good news with him.

They arrived at Centre Point, the places where Queen Visenya Targaryen had landed all those years ago, to take the fealty of the clans of the point. The Clans were many, their ways were old and they worshipped not the Old Gods as the northmen did, but the Gods of the Forest, those they claimed had been here before the Pact between the First Men and the Children. They wore not armour, but furs and painted themselves blue and red. They were fierce fighters as had been proven during the war. There was no amongst them who was foremost, for they swore fealty directly to the crown. As such, Jaime nodded as the call went out. “Kneel before King Jaime.” A thousand men and women all kneeled before him, and though he was used to people kneeling before him now, it was still quite surreal seeing it happen as it did just then.

He took a breath and said. “Rise. Rise and be seated.” He sat on the throne which had been made for the Kings of old, and watched as a thousand men and women got to their feet, heads bowed, and sat down on chairs provided. A moment of silence passed, then he stated. “I have come to see how all is progressing within the lands of the Point. You fought bravely and fairly during the war against Robert Baratheon and his ilk. You have always been the first to answer the call against any foe of the Iron Throne and you have been prompt in paying your taxes, for that I thank you. I know the changes that have come are many and are much to take in, and I wish to know how you have all been adapting to them. The impression is that you have adapted and are learning everything as it must be. I wish to know if that is the case. Whatever complaints or queries you have, please bring them forward now.”

He stopped speaking then, waiting for someone to step forward, he knew from experience that the Chiefs of the Point were not always the most outspoken of people when it came to matters of the state. In battle, they would batter any who came before them, but otherwise they preferred to remain quiet. As the minutes dragged by, Jaime wondered if anyone would actually say anything, and just as he was about speak again, a man, grey of hair and beard and stature stepped forward, he bowed low and spoke. “I am Jonos mac Dabíd, Your Majesty, Chief of the Blue Crows. I have come to speak to you about the Statutes Tax that the Crown has implemented.”

Jaime was intrigued, the Statutes Tax, was a tax on all existing debt that an individual had yet to pay back to the crown, to encourage full repayment and no skimping on what was owed. It had encouraged some forty percent of debt holders to repay in full before the interest was added. Looking at Jonos, the man held himself proudly, his shoulders were straight, his expression was unreadable, and Jaime found himself wondering how Jonos could have amassed such debts. “Speak, Lord Jonos, I would hear what you have to say.”

“As you say, the people of Crackclaw Point have served the throne loyally throughout the entirety of the Kingdom of Westeros’s existence. We have always been willing to provide men for the causes of the wars, and have paid our taxes fairly. There are some of us however, who have fallen on hard times and have needed to take out loans from the Iron Bank or from the Crown. The Statutes Tax has reminded us of our loans and consequently we are doing everything we can to repay the crown. But, the Iron Bank has started sending men into recall the debts that our forbearers had taken with them, and naturally, due to the Treaty of King’s Landing signed during the reign of King Aerys, such debts were declared null and void, but the Iron Bank has not yet recognised that for the Men of the Point. Consequently, I was wondering what you would do about this?”

Jaime had heard mutterings about this from Varys, the Bank seemed not to have learned the lesson of the great barricade that King Aerys had implemented on the city of Braavos a decade ago. He imagined that because royal presence never touched the Point that the Bank had assumed that the crown would not care if a few chieftains were put into servitude to the bank, but he knew what dangers that could bring. He took a moment to consider everything, they could not risk war with Braavos now, the Kingdom was repairing, and healing, it could ill afford another war, at the same time, not addressing this issue would be the gravest lapse of duty he could ever undertake. He reached his answer then. “How often do the men of the bank come calling?”

“Every three or four moons, Your Majesty. We have sent them away each and every time, but I fear they will come back and this time they will not be so easily swayed to leave.” Jonos replied honestly.

“The next time one of these fools comes, tell him to come to King’s Landing to meet with the King and Queen of Westeros. His quarrel is with us, not with you. If he refuses, you have my permission to kill him.” Jaime said, he knew that last part was dangerous and bold, but he also knew or hoped that the Braavosi were not so arrogant as to think they could continue to get away with this.

Jonos bowed and said. “Thank you, Your Majesty.” The man turned and walked back to his seat and silence fell for another while.

This time, the silence did not last as long as the previous one had, for another man stepped forward. This man was young, roughly around Ned’s age, he was clad in cloth of red and silver, his face carried a great man scars and he towered above everyone else. He bowed. “Your Majesty, I am Uilliam mac Eanric, I am the Chieftain of the Silver Fox, I have come before you today to ask for answer in regard to the Silver Penny law.”

Jaime was intrigued by this as well, the Silver Penny Law was a law he had argued about with Dany, seeing it as unnecessary, whereas his wife had seen it as necessary. The eventual law that had passed was a greatly modified version of the original. It meant that for every silver coin that a man possessed he had to pay a bronze penny for it, to ensure that things were kept even, the original law had wanted something akin to four bronze pennies paid for every silver coin. That would’ve been madness. “What answer do you wish for, my lord? The reasoning behind the Silver Penny law was announced far and wide through written announcements as well as verbal.” Jaime had made sure of that, aware as he was that some lords might not be able to actually read, and not completely trusting the maesters not to say something else entirely compared to what was on the letter for their own purposes.

Here Uilliam shifted slightly. “I know, Your Majesty, but forgive me, I know how to fight and how to kill, I am not so good when it comes to the language of the law. I needed clarification on whether the Silver Penny applied to all coins of silver or just those of the most recent vintage.”

A valid question, Jaime knew, especially as they were considering changing the silver coinage that would be accepted in most high-end shops and places. He thought for a moment. The law that was being discussed was still in its initial stages, and as far as Jaime knew there was not likely to be any serious consideration for it. Both Jaime and Dany thought it unnecessary, where as Tarly and Chelstead thought it could help reduce waste. Ned had not given his thoughts on it before he had left for Winterfell, and Pycelle and Varys rarely spoke on economic matters. Eventually, Jaime decided that should the law pass, he would return and give a fully understandable account to these people, but for now he would let them use their current and old silver. “The silver that you have now be it a recent issue or an older make, is still applicable for the Silver Penny, and it shall remain so unless otherwise stated.”

Uilliam nodded, bowed then returned to his seat. Another person stepped forward, a woman this time, with fiery hair, and green eyes. Her cheeks were dabbed with blue and golden paint. She curtseyed. “I am Hodierna Ingen Cináed, Chieftain of the Wild Rose. I have come to ask about the Hunting Laws. I know that they state that those who wish to hunt more than their allotted number of animals must apply for a permit and give valid reason for that permit to be granted. What I wish to know is what has made the throne think it has the right to decide how much one can hunt? We are a tribal people here, Your Majesty, we have always been a tribal people, and we gain our food through hunting. We do not trade, we do not make clothes to sell at markets, we hunt and we eat what we have hunted. Limiting that is something that would require some serious thinking. I wish to know what has gone into that.”

Jaime admired the audacity of the woman before her, but he also suspected that this was more of a challenge, or a test as it were, than a genuine question, and that annoyed him slightly, he was not a child to be tested so. However, he knew that acting like a petulant child would earn him no favours, consequently, he took time forming his answer. “I believe that the animals and the land, all belong to the crown, as they always have done. And yes, the people of the point make their livelihoods through hunting, but that hunting must be done under guidance, as with anything. Otherwise there is a risk that there will be a surplus of hunting done and there will come a time during summer and spring where you wish that you had not hunted so much. The evidence is there, the food you enjoy now was taken during the previous spring before the war broke, and it has been enough. How long will your food last for?”

“With the right storage, four years.” Hodierna replied.

“Precisely, you have more than enough food. Excess food will go bad and will require you to throw it away. Waste is the biggest killer of people within the tribes, my lady, everyone knows that. We are trying to prevent that from happening. If that is a problem for you, then I suggest you take a long hard look at yourself and what you consider a priority.” Jaime stated.

Hodierna curtseyed. “Thank you for answering.” She turned and walked away back to her seat. After her several more chieftains came presenting questions about various things, such as the water works, the road works and also the irrigation that was being planned. After that last one, the meeting came to an end and Jaime watched as the ground was prepared for the events that were to follow. It seemed his hosts wished for him to experience a good old fashioned bout, and their sensibilities indicated that only their best warriors would fight.

The event was simple, it was a melee, every man for himself, and even some women as well. Jaime watched from atop the throne, as big beasts of men and smaller lither creatures fought one another with hammer, axe, sword and mace, and sometimes even spear. As he watched he came to really appreciated why the people of the point were so feared and respected, they were something to behold. Even in the chaos, they held a certain pride of themselves, a certain difference between each fighter, there was chaos but also order, it was quite intriguing. There was also the fact that the big beasts were being knocked down by the smaller warriors, who it seemed were the prime fighters.

The bout lasted for at least an hour, maybe longer, when it was done, Jaime applauded with the others and rewarded the winner with a jewel encrusted sword, and shield, he also named him laoch mor, great warrior and promised him the right to lead the men of the point as first soldier. There was a great cheer at that, and afterward there was much feasting and drinking. Something that remained true for the rest of Jaime’s stay within the point. After about five days, he had grown tired of the constant feasting, drinking and fighting, he enjoyed it as much as the next man, but really, he wanted to return to King’s Landing, to his wife and son. And so, once he was sure nobody would try and ask more about laws or whatever, he took his men and returned home.

The journey home took another week, this time it was due to the rain that made travelling quite difficult. They camped and they stayed at inns, and all the while Jaime found himself waiting for the first sight of gates of King’s Landing to know that he had come home. Eventually, the rain had stopped enough for them to travel safely, and so he spurred his horse onward, arriving at the gates before anyone else, apart from the Kingsguard. Dany and Loren were there to greet him, he kissed his wife and took Loren into his arms hugging his son tightly. They laughed and talked all the while, as they made their way back to the Red Keep and their rooms, Jaime listened as his son babbled on about riding and beating Ser Oswell, and he listened as Dany spoke about her meeting with Doran Martell and how the man seemed more than happy with bending the knee and rising as Lord Paramount of Dorne, that was something that made Jaime suspicious, but he didn’t think about it just then. He was happy to be home. He informed his wife about his time in Crackclaw Point, about the fighting, and other things and his wife seemed delighted at how well it had gone. They ate together, then Loren was given to a nanny, and he and Dany got reacquainted with one another, several times. After their last time, they lay in bed, Dany running her hands over his chest. “What are you thinking about?” He asked his wife.

“You’re a really good father, you know that don’t you? Loren absolutely adores you.” His wife replied.

“Just like he adores you. He’s so easy to love, he’s so kind and sweet, and I think he’s got a bit of Tyrion’s curiosity in him, you know. Whenever I speak to him he’s always asking about things.” Jaime said.

His wife laughed. “That is true, very true. I do think he will make a very good older brother.”

Jaime hummed, and then his wife’s words sunk in. “You’re with child?”

“Yes, I think I’m a few moons along.” Dany said. “I didn’t want to tell you until I was completely sure.”

“That’s amazing!” Jaime replied smiling, he kissed Dany full on the mouth and made love to her again to celebrate. When they were done, they got dressed, and made their way to the dining room for lunch, where they ate heartily, and Jaime kept one hand linked with his wife’s, smiling all the while. He was going to be a father again; Loren was going to be a big brother. That was something that he would never get tired of hearing. He loved his wife and his son and he couldn’t wait to welcome another child into the world and into their family.

 His good mood was furthered when a letter was placed before him. Upon seeing that it was from Lord Tyrell he opened it and read it intently.

_Your Majesty, I hope this finds you well, I write to inform you, that my wife is with child, and that we have made some progress on finding out what Balon Greyjoy is planning to do with all the lumber he has been buying from the north as of late. My sources inform me that he wishes to build more ships to the Iron Fleet which would be in direct contrast to your recent orders on ship building. Consequently, I await instruction on what you wish me to do._

_Your humble servant_

_Lord Willas Tyrell_

Jaime showed the letter to his wife who smiled and said. “Well, that means we have what we need to finish off Balon Greyjoy then.”

Jaime nodded. “Indeed it does.” He summoned Pycelle and whispered. “Send word to Highgarden, tell Tyrell to begin preparing his men, and send word to Pyke, order Greyjoy to come here to answer for his crimes.”

“Yes Your Majesty,” Pycelle replied.


	61. Small Hours: Ned XVI

****

It was good to be back in Winterfell, amongst the snow and the steeples and towers. As Lord of Winterfell, Ned knew had in some ways been remiss in his duty. He had not been as active in coming north as perhaps he should have been. He had handled everything from the Tower of the Hand in King’s Landing, and so far the results were good, but he suspected until the King gave the order for all lords to come and reside at court, he would need to balance his time between Winterfell and the capital, especially with a young son. Ned was determined to be there for his son, determined to ensure his son knew who he was and what it meant to be a Stark, in some ways, Ned felt that though his own father had loved him, he had never quite made it clear what it meant to be a Stark and consequently, both he and Brandon had trailed off on their own adventures. That would not be the case for his own son.

His son was now roughly two and half namedays old, and was filled with energy. Rickon could walk and talk, he was interested in the stories and tales of old, and had a healthy curiosity, that Ned was happy with. The people of Winterfell seemed to care for him greatly as well, which was great. And Ashara was a fantastic mother, which was something that made Ned feel even more in love with her than he had thought possible. Everything seemed to be going well for him.

Consequently, he felt that it was only normal that the northern lords would see fit to file their complaints now. There were several of them he knew would be presenting their grievances at the meeting of the lords. He sat on the winter throne, Ashara at his side, Rickon was in the nursery, enjoying his free time. Maester Walys spoke. “Lord Dustin, my lord.”

Lord Willam Dustin, a man who had served loyally during the war, married to Barbrey Ryswell with two children of his own. A proud man, and one who Ned had thought would stick loyally behind the reforms being implemented. After all, Ned had looked at the books and seen that the man had seen his share of revenue increase fivefold. Dustin bowed and spoke. “My lord, thank you for accepting my request. I have come today to ask about the Earth reform that Their Majesties have implemented. I believe that the law has done more harm than good, both for the Dustin lands and the Ryswell lands as well as the surrounding lands. Whilst it might work well in the south, where the lands are more fertile and fragrant, here it has done nothing more than to create the dirge with which our ancestors worked so hard to prevent.”

“You have proof of this?” Ned asked, he knew Willam, and knew that he would not voice a complaint unless he was entirely sure that it was a valid complaint, and something about this rang wrong to him.

Lord Willam nodded, and a servant dressed not in Dustin colours but Ryswell colours came and handed him a box. Willam opened the box and showed Ned the inside contents. There was soil, but it was white, not black, it was frozen over. Willam shut the box and said. “The Earth reform has ensured that healthier product is used to provide for a better sort of refreshment, however, the soil in the north is more brittle and explosive, it does not react so well to anything that is not made within the region itself.”

Ned considered this, then called out. “Lord Umber, tell me, does your own soil suffer this fate?”

“No my lord.” Greatjon replied, the man was loyal, but he was also very vocal when he felt something was not right. Here he seemed content to support Ned.

“And you, Lord Karstark?” Ned asked.

“My soil is healthy, my lord.” Lord Karstark replied, the man was hunched slightly from the countless blows he had taken during the war.

Ned turned back to Willam and sighed. “If what you said was true, then it would not have worked on either Lord Umber or Lord Karstark’s lands, and yet, it does. Furthermore, before the reform was passed, I had the product tested here in the north over a period of five moons, there was no long-term change in the negative, it was all for the positive. This was done all over the north. So, tell me Willam, what is the real purpose behind this claim?”

Willam did not blink, his tone was expressionless, as he replied. “I believe that this reform will have negative consequences for the north, my lord. For generations, we have sustained ourselves on products made by our own hand, and now we are venturing toward selling ourselves out for the reforms of the King. Reforms which are well meaning, but are undercutting northern industry.”

Willam might be speaking the words, but they were Barbrey’s words, and Barbrey he suspected had never forgiven what had happened to her father and older brothers. Ned stared at Willam, wondering how it had gotten to this point, was Willam really so bitter about Brandon? Ned did not know, and if he were being frank, he found his patience was at an end. “You mean they are undercutting your product and sales. Do not get me wrong, Willam, I think it is sad that that is happening, but that is the nature of business. You need to either get with the programme now and ensure that your methods are updated, or you will always be left behind. Blaming something else for your own idiocy is not going to get you anywhere.”

Willam’s shoulders sagged, and his voice was very soft. “I will speak with my maester and farmers, my lord and ensure they know what to do.”

“Good, and do not waste Winterfell’s time with this nonsense again.” Ned said firmly, he knew he would need to step up the watch on Barbrey and Willam and that made him feel quite sad. Willam bowed and turned and walked away.

Maester Walys, a stooped and slightly frail man now, spoke once more. “Lord Flint, my lord.”

Lord Flint was a big barrel of a man, Lord of Flint’s Finger, and a very opinionated one at that. He stepped forward, bowed, then spoke. “My lord, I have come to ask you when the building of the city on the Western edge of our land will be finished. I have given aid and shelter to a great many men there, I have allowed the ships to be built in my hold and stationed nearby, I have dealt with the sailors and the soldiers. What I want to know is when will it be done and when can my land return to normal?”

This was a more difficult question to answer, Ned knew that the city on the West was necessary as was a western fleet, as ordered by the crown, but the cost was something that he had had to take great pains to consider. Taxes had been raised slightly, expenses elsewhere cut, but still, there was a human cost as well. Noise, clutter and boisterous men. Ned thought over this for a moment, Ashara had remained quiet throughout all of this, surprisingly, he knew she did not like Lord Flint, and she was right not to. The man was a bit of an ogre, but really, he had a valid concern. Eventually, having reached a decision, Ned replied. “We aim to have the work on the Western Coast done within the year, it is coming along nicely. And whilst I appreciate that stationing so many men near your lands is problematic and can also be a disturbance and a nuisance, I ask that you keep an open mind, the benefits will far outweigh the consequences, especially with what the King believes is out there further west.” Ned was not sure whether Jaime believed that there was something out there on the Western seas, or if he was doing it to shut Ned up, but regardless an expedition had been sent, and well, things should be interesting once all was said and done. “I ask that you keep some patience, and do what you can to keep calm.”

Flint puffed himself up, making it clear that he did not think that was a sufficient answer. “I understand that well enough, my lord, what I want to know is what will I get out of this? I pay my taxes, my lands are growing well enough using this new product, but what does harbouring all of these builders and sailors get me? This is being done not for the north, but for Westeros, and what has Westeros ever given me?”

Ned stiffened slightly, Ashara placed a calming hand on his arm, to make sure he did not snap at the man. There were times when he really remembered why he despised the northern lords, they were so fucking backward, it hurt. He took a moment to calm himself, then spoke, in as calm a manner as he could. “Westeros has given you land to call yours, Westeros has given you the tools with which to build a castle to live in, people to call your family and a roof above your head. Westeros has given you much, so I think that you can spare something of your quiet and serenity for Westeros.”

Flint stared at Ned, and Ned stared back, neither man blinked. Ned knew what Flint was trying to do, he was trying to make Ned look away first, to prove a point, that he knew more about how to handle these power plays than Ned did. But Ned would not have it. He held his ground and was rewarded when Flint blinked first and looked away. The man lowered his head and said. “Very well, my lord, I shall keep my peace.” The man bowed and walked away.

Maester Walys stepped forward, and said. “Lord Manderly.”

Lord Manderly, was a fat man, he was not as fat as his father had been, but he was still quite fat. The man bowed, and his chins wobbled. “My lord, I thank you for taking this time for an audience. I wish to ask you what you would wish for the eastern fleet. It has done the various rounds that you asked of it, and now it rests in White Harbour, gathering dust. What purpose would you like for it to have?”

Ned had thought about this in some detail during the journey up to Winterfell, thinking of what the Eastern Fleet could be used for. He knew the Western Fleet would be for exploration and for handling the Ironborn or Wildlings. But the Eastern Fleet, now that had been something he’d not been sure what to do with. He’d finally settled on an answer after observing merchant ships on the Trident. “I want you to command your brother to make the journey with the fleet toward Lorath and Braavos, per the King’s instruction, I want exploration of the further regions of the east, I want to know more about what is out there and how it can be used to benefit the kingdom.”

“More resources and money being used to fill coffers in King’s Landing! Of course!” Came the shout from somewhere.

Ned did not bother looking to see who it was who had made that claim, instead he looked at Manderly and said. “You know the routes I am talking about, I presume, my lord?”

Manderly nodded, and his chins jiggled again, it was an oddly amusing sight. “I do, my lord. I will have Wendel chart the course accordingly.”

Ned nodded. “Good.” Manderly bowed and then walked back to his place.

Maester Walys stepped toward Ned and stated. “That is all for now, my lord.”

Ned nodded and said aloud. “My lords, this winter has been a trying time for us all. But the economy is growing and with it the riches are being shared equally amongst us all. I know that there are travails still before us and difficulties, but we shall move forward. Now, I suggest we enjoy the feasting that has been prepared and the entertainment. Come let us make our way to the great hall.” The Lords all stood as he and Ashara walked out of the room and into the hallway, as they walked, Ned whispered. “Perhaps I should do as you suggest, my love, and have Barbrey removed. She will bring nothing but ruin to Willam if she continues as is.”

“It would be wise, but I would recommend doing it in some time. Not right now.” Ashara said.

“Of course, we do not want anyone linking it to this meeting.” Ned said. “Especially now.” He looked down at her stomach, their child was growing within her, another child, perhaps a girl this time? They made their way to the great hall, the doors opening, they entered, and then the lords filed in behind them, each taking their place, Ned and Ashara sat at the high table with some of their direct bannermen. The food was put before them and they ate, Rickon was brought along with the other children and the feasting began properly then.

There was friendly chatter during the course of the initial round of eating, and Ned listened as Rickon spoke happily of the games he and his friends had been playing. “Dragon ball, Papa, where you have to dress as a dragon, and the others have to try and capture you.”

“Is that why your cheeks are so red?” Ned asked amused.

Rickon nodded enthusiastically. “Yes Papa! It involves a lot of wunning!”

Ned laughed and smiled at his son. “I see.” Rickon eventually had to be led away for his nap, and Ned watched his son go a strange feeling in his stomach.

“He’s growing up very quickly, isn’t he?” Ashara asked, leaning in.

He kissed her cheek and said. “He is. Soon enough he will be chasing after girls and dreaming of being a knight.”

“Now that will be something to behold.” Ashara teased lightly.

Ned nodded and was about to reply, when Lord Bolton approached the high table, the man bowed, straightened and said. “My lord, my lady, I think that the meeting today went quite well. However, I feel that there was one area where you could’ve been more firm, my lord.”

Ned was surprised, Bolton did not usually speak to him about much. “And what might that be?” He asked curious to see what Bolton would say.

“Instead of cautioning Lord Dustin, you should have simply told him not to listen to everything his wife said.” Bolton replied. “Lady Barbrey might be my goodsister, but she is not always the most rational of thinkers. It is one of the things that has always held her back and prevented her from reaching her true potential.”

“I shall consider this for the next time, my lord, thank you.” Ned replied.

Bolton nodded, turned and walked back to his seat. “How odd.” Ashara said. “What do you think he wanted to gain by doing that?”

Normally, Ned would laugh and say that his wife was just being overtly cautious, but now, with Bolton and Dustin, he was beginning to think she was right to be cautious, after all, they were family through marriage. “I think he wanted me to make a fool of myself. Calling out Barbrey would’ve meant Dustin had to defend her honour as would Roose as her goodbrother. That would’ve pit two powerful lords against me there and then. Thankfully I am not Brandon, and I know how to control my temper.”

“With help.” Ashara joked.

“With help.” Ned agreed.

Robett Glover who served as steward of the Wolfswood, was seated at the High Table in his brother’s place as Galbart was away helping with the western venture, on Ned’s request. Robett spoke in a soft tone. “I believe that there might be more concern on the western shore, now that there is word that Balon Greyjoy has been using the wood he amassed from trade with us, to build more ships for his Iron Fleet. I think we would be best served by increasing pace with the building of the ships on the Western coast, my lord.”

“I agree, I think that the more time we spend debating such things as Dustin’s concern, the less time we have to truly bring the full force to bear. You will have one hundred war galleys prepared for the next two weeks should things go accordingly, why not step that up for one hundred and fifty for two weeks?” Lord Cerwyn asked.

Ned laughed. “My lord Cerwyn, the one hundred ships would be of the highest quality. They would be fast moving and filled with the right weapons. An extra fifty ships would be rushed and very hastily assembled, and like to fall apart on the waves. I would not risk the lives of my men just to make things go quicker.”

Cerwyn bowed his head in acknowledgement, and instead asked. “Speaking of which, in regards to the contracts of the builders for the ships, and the city itself, when do you expect them to return to their farms and lands, after all, winter might be present now, but spring is approaching.”

Ned had pondered this as well, it was something that had been troubling him for a time, the work on the land would need to be done, but he was not willing to leave the city unfinished. He would need to make the necessary adjustments soon. “I believe a reasonable time for everything to be done would be by winter’s end, which is expected to be in two moons time. The city has come along well, as has the port. So, with the gods blessing all should be fine.” Cerwyn seemed content enough with that response, and they fell silent once more, and continued enjoying the feast.


	62. Fight Fire With Fire: Willas

Being Lord of Highgarden came with a great responsibility, it meant staying up into the early hours to ensure that administration was done properly, it meant going over countless books of records and figures to ensure everything was in order, and it meant spending time travelling from place to place ensuring wounds from the war were healed. Willas had spent most of his life preparing for the role, and now that he had it, he wondered how his father had not gone mad. Their bannermen were some of the most frustrating men he had ever encountered, always willing to argue over some minute detail as if their lives depended on it, and then missing another minute detail and arguing over that as well. Sometimes, it seemed to Willas that the lords of the Reach needed to get a good bell ringing, and perhaps then they would finally achieve some inkling of common sense. Grandmother was of the same opinion as well, so it seemed a fair enough assumption after all.

Being Lord of the Reach also meant that he was head of House Tyrell, and was responsible for all the family members that were part of the house. That in itself was an exhausting job. His own immediate family were fine, Garlan was a sweet boy as was baby Loras and little Margaery, and his own children-gods that felt odd- Gwayne and Mern were sweet babies as well, but the other members of the family perhaps not so much. There had been arguments over allowances, and the rights of the other family members to use certain crests and badges. It had all gotten quite frustrating, to the point that Willas had considered snapping their necks and dealing with the label that would come from that. But Lyanna had prevented him from doing so.

His wife was a calming influence on him, which was surprising considering how active and boisterous she was. Whilst she might prefer doing things that were considered traditionally masculine, she did have a good heart and a good head on her shoulders. They listened to one another, just like Father and Mother had done all those years ago. They listened and they spoke about the things that concerned them, or that pleased them, and she was a good Mother, despite her own initial concerns over whether she would be or not. The children absolutely adored her, something that never failed to make Willas smile.

They both agreed that the reforms that the King and Queen were implementing were necessary. For too long Westeros had trudged along at an average pace, doing nothing, achieving nothing. And now since the reforms had been introduced almost three years ago, there had been an increase in productivity, the monetary value of the goods had increased substantially, and more people had money in their pockets to be able to buy the goods at the increased price as well. There was more certainty about what it meant to be Westerosi as well. Gone was the hesitancy of associating with the name, replaced by pride and a devotion to the cause that had previously been lacking.

Willas had admitted to himself that he had been concerned that the removal of the Martells’ princely title would inspire them to revolt, but instead after returning from King’s Landing, Doran Martell had fallen ill with the fever and died some days later. His son, the much more level headed and reasonable, Ser Quentyn had ascended as Lord of Sunspear and Lord Paramount of Dorne. A lucky break if ever there was one and one that Willas was very thankful for, he did not think that they’d have been able to handle fighting the Dornish after the bloodiness of the previous war. Lord Quentyn had done his bit and ensured the Dornish complied with everything asked of them, he had even married one of the King’s cousins, a Cerenna Lannister.

Of course, things could not go so well without there being some sort of glitch within the greater works of the world. And so, it had come, Balon Greyjoy who had bought enough lumber to build some one hundred war ships was planning on building one hundred more, something that was in direct violation of the agreement he had signed. The King had sent word through, a direct instruction, watch, prepare, and then act. The need to act had come when Balon Greyjoy’s brother Euron Greyjoy, commander of the Silence had been seen prowling through the waters near Lannisport. A provocation even if not direct, the King had arrived with the remainder of the Royal Fleet some three days ago, and they were sailing toward the Islands now. Greyjoy no doubt thought whatever his plans, that the throne would not expect such an attack now. He was wrong, the spies they had captured on a putative raid had revealed everything.

Euron Greyjoy as ever demonstrated why he was the most dangerous of all of Quellon Greyjoy’s sons, a raid on Lannisport and a much larger assault on Seagard had been planned. The King had decided to meet the Iron Fleet head on, with the might of the Royal Fleet, some three hundred war galleys in total, bringing with them thousands of men from the Reach, Crownlands and Stormlands, against the Iron Fleet. It was going to be an interesting day and night, for the Iron Fleet was in sight. Willas was not nervous, not completely, he had fought during the war against Baratheon and Arryn, he knew what to expect, no he was more concerned about how his brother Garlan who was but ten namedays old would handle things. Willas had been wary of allowing his younger brother to attend the fighting, but at the last moment had decided to let him, after all he would need to know, to truly understand things. He would not be in the worst part of the fighting, of that Willas was determined, keeping him with the reserve alongside their cousin Ser Morn.

“Twenty ships spotted ahead, my lord, course for action?” Asked one of the ship hands.

Willas considered, his uncle Paxter was commanding the initial offensive, and as he listened he could hear the sounds of battle, distantly, it seemed the fighting had already begun. “What flags do these ships fly?”

“Squid flags, my lord, they are Ironborn ships.” The ship hand replied.

“Engage.” Willas said, wondering how these ships had gotten passed his uncle’s probing gaze. He drew up, and barked out commands to the rest of the men, idleness could not be tolerated today. They were fighting the Ironborn on their own ground, they knew the waves better than anybody else and would likely know just where to go to expose weaknesses. The ship started moving at a quicker rate as the fuel was added in greater doses. Willas might not have spent his entire life on a ship like his uncle, or his cousins, but he had studied with Lord Hightower, and he knew how ships operated, he had commanded one or two during a putative expedition to the Stepstones in his youth.  The ship moved forward and weapons were prepared. The Ironborn ships flew the skull and kraken of death, their own weapons prepared as well. Willas waited a moment, then as the time got nearer, and the ships drew closer he barked out the command. “Fire.”

It seemed his opposite number had had the same idea for a large crash sounded as the Ironborn unleashed their own fire. Arrows drew into the sky, as they fell, men groaned under the weight of being hit, Willas watched with rapt fascination, seeing the trajectory of the arrows as if one might watch a bird flying into the air and disappearing into nothingness. “Launch greater arrows.” Willas commanded, the men hurried to obey, the order was passed down the line. The heavier steel clad arrows were launched and this time they did the job. Ironborn ships started moving away, afraid to be dragged down by the things coming at them from all sides.

“They’re turning tail, my lord, should we pursue?” Ser Morrigan asked.

Willas thought about the question, he knew that pursuing would be what his father and uncle would both do, but Willas suspected that these ships wanted them to pursue them, to initiate some sort of trap. He was suspicious they had come too easily and fled too soon. Yes, the steel arrowheads could destroy even the most solid of ships, but there was something in their manner that did not seem right to him. Ironborn were bold and adventurous, they would never retreat, even if doing so would actually benefit them more. “Remain, we shall see what comes next.” He commanded. Ser Morrigan nodded and the order was passed down. In the silence that followed, Willas had time to ponder what exactly was going on. He wondered whether the Ironborn knew that they knew of their plans, and were going to directly counter them. Considering just how southerly they were of Lannisport still, he thought that they might, but then if that were the case, were the forces that his uncle was fighting simply diversionary, or not? Was there more to this than he had thought there was?

A groan sounded out from the distance, a deep bellowing groan, that sent Willas to shuddering slightly. That could not be right, there would be no groaning unless there was a movement of men and arms under the waves, and nobody had done that since the Grey King. The groaning got louder, the creaking of the waves more prominent. “Be prepared to defend. Man, the sides.” Willas commanded.

“Sight from Starboard, my lord” Came a call.

“How many?” Willas asked, his worries growing.

“Ten, twenty, uncertain, my lord. Flying skull and raven banners.” The man responded.

Crow’s Eye. Willas felt fear, why was the Crow’s Eye coming out so far, who was his uncle fighting then, if the Crow’s Eye was here? Swallowing down his nerves, Willas barked out a series of commands. “Man the boards, man the bows, prepare for immediate combat.” The groaning grew louder, and as the ships got closer, Willas realised that it wasn’t groaning, it was the sound of a dozen horns being blown at once. Willas felt the temptation to place his hands over his ears, but fought the sensation knowing that nothing good could come from that. “Whir the arrows.” He commanded, the arrows were placed inside their boards, the men prepared for launch. Before he could give the command, the horns stopped, a deathly silence fell around them. Willas’s heart thumped, sweat trickled down his skin. A lone arrow was unleashed by the ship in front, it hit the figure on the front of his ship. A challenge. “Fire.” Willas roared, his stupor broken.

Arrows whirred around him, bringing to life the dissonant sounds of chaos. The steel and the bronze hit one another, the bronze breaking more often than not. A few times the bronze broke the steel, but that was something that did not cause much alarm, for in order to do that, the ironborn had to use some fifty arrows compared to the one steelhead. The ships were drawing closer, pushed that way by the tide. Willas took a breath, he knew what would come next. Almost as soon as he thought it, the ships rammed into one another. The deck shook from the impact; he took his morning star and swung at the first bastard with yellow teeth bearing the skull that came his way. The man fell with a sickening crunch, Willas stepped over him, noting his lack of armour and proceeded onto dealing with his fellow scum.

The ironborn were renowned for being fierce fighters and even the crazed men of Euron Greyjoy’s command were the same. They thought with tooth and nail, they pressed in and they snarled their defiance, daring Willas and his men to break. Willas did not break, though he did break a fair few of them. Their unarmoured persons the perfect things to destroy. In the back of his mind, Willas was aware that this was likely the first test being flung at them by the Crow’s Eye, something to see whether they had the mettle to really combat him. Arrows were still flying from other ships, but here it was all hand to hand, directly in front of one another.

The Ironborn who had boarded were slain, their bodies thrown overboard, to clog the waters of the Sunset Sea. Willas stood and observed what was happening around him. Arrows were flying overhead, painting the sky silver and bronze, there was no let up there, but the Silence, the Crow’s Eye’s own ship did not seem to be amongst them. That worried him, it meant that somewhere, the maddest and smartest of Quellon Greyjoy’s sons was out there, preparing and waiting. For what, Willas did not know, and that made him feel even more nervous. Ser Morrigan appeared at his side, bloodied and bruised but still alive. “Report.” Willas demanded.

“Ten of our own are dead, my lord, they’ve been thrown overboard as well. The fighting goes well for us, we’ve taken down twelve ships, and lost one.” Morrigan reported.

“Any sign of the Silence?” Willas asked.

Morrigan opened his mouth, closed it, then pointed. “There.”

Sure, enough, there it was, a towering hulking structure, all black and gold, the dead man’s chest and the kraken of Greyjoy flying proudly on its sails. Euron Crow’s Eye stood at the front, a mace in his hand, he looked like something out of a nightmare, dressed from head to toe in black armour, his face carrying some sort of sickening smile on it. Willas watched as the Silence drew closer, he knew he needed to give commands, to order fire, but something in him wasn’t moving. Thankfully, Ser Morrigan had no such restrictions. He was barking orders and the arrowheads flew from the ship and landed just shy of the Silence or on the ship, taking out the enemy soldiers, but not Greyjoy, that man remained, staring at him, laughing.

The man called out to him as their ships got closer to one another. “Is that the best you can do?” An arrow sailed right over his head and Greyjoy laughed. Their ships rammed into one another, Willas blinked and the trance was broken. His morning star was swinging before he could even think. One man went down, then another, then another. They wore nothing but their clothes, an odd sight, it was almost as if they were asking to be killed. That worsened Willas’s already present sense of paranoia that there was more to this than met the eye. He swung and kept swinging. His morning star cleaving a bloody path through the many men who tried. He pushed his way onto the Silence, his men accompanying him.

Men fell around him, his men, Greyjoy men, and those weird looking eunuchs that seemed to be common place on Greyjoy’s ship. Willas kept going, he took blows, but managed to brush them off largely, thanks to his armour, his morning star kept leading the way. Greyjoy was nowhere to be seen, then he would pop up, kill three men and disappear, only to repeat the process all over again, it was quite unnerving. Greyjoy appeared right in front of him, they swung at one another. Sparks flew, then pulled back, then again. Once more, a swing, a fall, a swing, a duck, a dodge, a blow, Willas shouted in pain, then hit and Greyjoy laughed as blood trickled out of his arm.

“I have waited for this moment for a very long time. I will kill you, then take your wife as my whore.” Greyjoy snarled.

Willas smacked him across the face, Greyjoy spat out blood and laughed. “Come now, is that anyway to talk to your wife’s future lover?” He smacked Greyjoy across the face again, Greyjoy spat out blood, but did not laugh this time. How he was not dead, Willas did not know and it worried him. Greyjoy pushed him back, and his chest was on fire. Mace and morning star, they danced the only dance that mattered back and forth, as their men died around them. Greyjoy was quick, Willas was quick, they blocked one another out more often than not, but on the odd occasion where one or the other failed to, the other would come and hit with such force that Willas genuinely wondered how either of them were standing.

He fell back and nearly tripped over Ser Morrigan. Euron Crow’s Eye laughed. “You know that means you’re next. Such a shame, he would’ve made a good slave.” Willas pushed forward, hit Crow’s Eye in the chest, then again in the face, Crow’s Eye’s face was little more than a wreck at this point, how he had not died, Willas did not know, he kept going. Kept hammering at the annoying shit before him. He pushed himself further and harder than he ever had before. Crow’s Eye hit back, Willas sank to his knees, blood coming from half a dozen wounds, sweat mingling with blood to really sting him. Crow’s Eye stood over him. “This is where you die.” Willas looked at him, waiting for the blow, then when Crow’s Eye took longer than necessary, he took a last gasp, he swung, his morning star clipped Crow’s Eye’s heel, the man fell growling in pain. Willas staggered, grabbed a dagger someone had left and plunged it into Crow’s Eye’s throat, pulled it out and plunged it in again. He watched Crow’s Eye stop moving, he staggered back to his own ship, where there were perhaps three men left alive. “Burn it.” He ordered gesturing at the Silence. They threw balls of fire onto the ship, lighting arrows and firing them, then they sped their own ship away. Willas stood, half covered in blood as the Silence sank below the waves.

They met his uncle’s ship, and learned of the deaths of Victarion and Aeron Greyjoy, their heads hanging from the prow of his uncle’s ship, and Willas saw his wounds tended to. Then Pyke came into sight.

 


	63. Storm The City: Ned XVII

****

The fighting outside Seagard had been short but fierce. After word, had come through about the Ironborn and their plans, Ned had mustered the Eastern Fleet and sailed southwards, during the journey south, they’d found the Iron Fleet preparing some sort of invasion of Seagard. Before the ironborn could get to the coastal town, Ned had ordered the attack. That had been his first taste of naval warfare and he had to admit, he really did not like it. He did not have sea legs as it was, but fighting on the sea was something else entirely. He’d been fighting the urge not to vomit, whilst he had killed men who were used to sailing, that had been something completely hilarious. The ironborn had given a good showing of themselves as he had expected them to, but they were ultimately, more scrappers than actual warriors and they had been defeated easily enough. Ned had lost just five ships compared to the destruction of the entire fleet which had been under the Ironborn control. Rodrick Greyjoy, who Ned had learned was the heir to Pyke and the isles had commanded the attack and had lost his life during the fighting. Killed by the Greatjon.

From there they had marshalled and sailed for Pyke, where the ultimate assault was to happen. Pyke was before them now, all walls and structure, the walls were rattling under the combined assault of over three hundred battering rams and rocks being thrown at it. Ned could hear the catcalls and taunts of the ironborn, but the longer the barricade went on the more it sounded as though the ironborn were growing hoarse, as if they were afraid. Ned wondered what had prompted Balon Greyjoy to rebel now. The ironborn had done well through trade, and their independence had always been nothing more than a pipe dream, surely Greyjoy was smart enough to realise that? Though the loss of his heir, and three brothers to pursuing something akin to independence suggested that he was not, which was a shame considering how smart and forward thinking his father, Lord Quellon had been. Ned remembered reading the correspondence between his own father and Lord Quellon, and the man had seemed almost more knowledgeable about the world than anyone else alive.

And now his son was wasting all his hard work. Maesters had been expelled from the isles, Septons and healers as well. It seemed Greyjoy wanted to return to the days of old, when the average age of life was thirty and men died from wounds easily treatable. Indeed, several of the ironborn they had captured during the battle outside Seagard had refused treatment, for fear of it coming back to Pyke and Lord Balon having them killed either way. Ned looked up at the walls and could see defenders wearing the sigils of Botley, Harlaw, Blacktyde, Greyjoy even, but he could not see their King. It seemed Balon Greyjoy would not come out to fight them himself. Ned felt nothing but contempt for the man then, the wall before him crumpled down, men screaming as they fell with it. Ned straightened. “In!” He cried, drawing his sword and riding into the gap created, his horse jumped over the rubble, and his sword took care of any Ironborn that might seek to cause trouble, it was easy enough, the main strength had been on the walls. The soldiers who came at him then, as he entered Pyke were not soldiers, but mere boys, with weapons thrust into their hands and told to fight.

He felt sorry for them, he really did, they had no choice as to their fate, they were merely expected to fight and to die, because that was what a mad man had instructed of them. He killed ten men before he realised most of these men had probably never held a weapon in their life, which surprised him. He would’ve thought a man such as Balon Greyjoy who clearly held nothing but contempt for his people, would’ve demanded that they all learn how to fight before he launched this insane campaign for independence. Clearly he did not. Ned swung his sword, drinking in the sights before him. Pyke was breaking under the strain of repelling their force, the walls were crumbling all around them, and there was nothing the ironborn could do about that. Their strength in the fleet had been destroyed at Seagard and at the Sunset Sea, they were finished. Finished. Ned pushed onward, trying not to feel sorry for the men before him, or their families who would have to bury them once this was all said and done.

Ned moved, his horse kept going, nobody seemed able to land a blow on him, yet his arms ached, and his muscles were growing tired. He kept going though, knowing that stopping during an assault such as this, was tantamount to suicide. And he had now wish to sign his own death warrant. He had a son and a daughter and a wife waiting for him back at home. Ashara had given birth to a girl whom they had named Sansa, after an ancestor of Ned’s, she had Ashara’s hair, and his eyes, and she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. His heart had just overflown with love when he held her. He wondered if that was how all fathers felt when they held their daughters for the first time, he hoped so. There was nothing greater than being a parent, and he was determined to return to his children, and to Ashara, the love of his life.

Ashara’s brother, Ser Arthur, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, had been charged  by the King, with leading the assault on Old Wyk, as the place was where Balon Greyjoy had been crowned King, that made sense. Take the island, sack the areas where the Drowned Men held sway and you sent an effective message. Their god would have failed them, and there would be no turning back from this. Ned continued, through the course, knowing that the loss of the Drowned Men would be the greatest blow for the Ironborn, perhaps afterward, they would finally see sense and move into the light. Though as he killed yet another man, he did not know whether he should hold out hope for that. After all, the Ironborn were not the brightest. Their adherence to a way of life that had died with the Dragon, was proof of that.

The ground shook underneath him as he advanced, his men around him. After his little outcry, Willam had been relatively loyal, staying within the confines of his land, paying his taxes on time and doing everything he could to ensure that things remained calm. Ned knew however, that everything was not calm, Barbrey was doing what she did best and that was creating a fuss. She had demanded Willam answer some imagined insult, and had been firmly shut down, she had written to her brother, and her brother had ignored her. Ned had eventually confronted her about it and learned that she felt she had been denied her rightful place as Lady of Winterfell. Ned had laughed at her, and told her to grow up, he had then told her that if she made one more scene, he would send her to the Silent Sisters and she would never see her children again. Despite her anger and her rage, Barbrey Dustin loved her children and so had kept quiet since. Much to Ned’s relief.

Men were pouring in from all sides now, the royal army come to end the threat of the Ironborn. Ned had met his goodbrother, Lord Willas and congratulated him on handling the Iron Fleet effectively, the man had as always, blushed and given his thanks, but also reminded Ned to thank his uncle Lord Redwyne. Ned had done so, but had also spoke with Lord Redwyne, who had told him that Willas’s diversions had worked in drawing the Silence away and with the death of Euron Greyjoy, the ironborn had broken quite easily. Victarion Greyjoy, and Aeron Greyjoy the youngest of the Greyjoy brothers it seemed were not commanders, but soldiers, built to obey, not to lead. The Ironborn inefficiencies had been exposed during the fighting and as such their fleet had been destroyed. Ned was thankful that they had managed to capture those fools who had told them all about the plan to attack Lannisport and Seagard, otherwise things might’ve been a lot worse.

As it was, they were pushing through it all and taking big strides to remove the stain that was Balon Greyjoy from the face of Westeros. The Ironborn were getting sloppy, their defences had broken and now they were simply charging at Ned and his men from everywhere, not really bothering to try and wrack up any sort of defence, they just kept charging. It was actually somewhat infuriating. Ned swung his sword, and the enemy fell, he felt a pang at the loss of life, but otherwise kept going. A great beast swung a hammer at him, he took the blow on his sword and blinked fiercely, the blow had jarred him. The man disappeared in the throng of battle, it was an unending chaos, the Ironborn were trying desperately to hold onto solid ground, trying desperately to prevent the inevitable. Ned had to give them that, they weren’t just surrendering there and then despite that being the easiest course of action and perhaps the smartest move. They were making them work for it.

Bodies started piling up all around him, Ned could already smell the stench that would plague them for the next few days or moons depending on how the Ironborn were on cleanliness, so far it seemed they were decently moderate on that. Whether or not they would even bother afterwards remained to be seen. Ned and his men continued breaking through another defensive structure, something that surprised him. The Ironborn really were quite desperate then, if they were throwing defensive structures at them. Another appeared and was broken easily enough. It was a slow climb up the steps and the bridge, toward the great keep, it towered before them, inviting them in. Ironborn soldiers were throwing themselves at them now, it seemed they were desperate to either fight or just die, rather than be exposed to the wrath of their lord. That made him wonder what sort of man Balon Greyjoy was if his men were more willing to die out of fear than loyalty.

The Ironborn at the gates fought and died, then they were inside the keep. The guard fought, weapons clanging off of steel and wall and brick, Ned and his men and the royal army swept over them, like the tide. The Ironborn guard were broken, and the main hall was before them. Ned pushed in, the doors flying open, and there he saw a sight that he thought he would never see. Two children, a boy and a girl, the boy perhaps five namedays old, the girl about seven, they were laying there eyes blank and expressionless, blood pooling around them, a dagger lying at their side. There was a woman there also, her throat slit, horror her last expression. Ned followed the trail of blood, anger blooming inside him, he looked up, and there he was, the man who had done this. Balon Greyjoy, wearing robes of grey, blood on his hands and his clothes, his eyes unseeing. A crown was nestled atop his head, but he did not seem to see it, or feel it, he was not doing anything.

Ned moved toward him, prepared to strike him down, when he felt a hand on his arm. He turned and looked at the King, who shook his head. The King spoke calmly and loudly. “Balon Greyjoy, you are under arrest for treason. Take him away and lock him up.” Men wearing the colours of the royal house came and grabbed Greyjoy and took him away. The King looked at the bodies and said. “Give them a proper burial.” And that was done. Ned stared after them, images of bodies from Duskendale floating before him, he said nothing, but then clapped the King on the arm.

“We have won, Your Majesty. Greyjoy is defeated.” The King nodded and they stood in silence for a time.

It took time for the rest of the island to learn of the capture of their King. When they did learn it, the Ironborn threw down their weapons and surrendered, the nobles were taken to the great hall as prisoners. The common soldiers were killed or allowed to file out. The King sat where once Balon Greyjoy had sat. Word was presented sometime later that Old Wyk had also been taken and that prisoners were being brought to Pyke. Neither the King or Ned said anything, they merely watched the aftermath of the battle, the rubble, the clearing, the mourning, the celebrations, all of it was watched with silence. Ned could not get the image of the boy and girl from his mind, they were implanted there, and they refused to leave. He could not believe that a man would willingly kill his son and daughter, or his own wife. The thought made him sick to his stomach.

Eventually the prisoners arrived, they were thrown before the King, and the King spoke. “The Iron Islands committed treason. It committed treason when it violated the terms of its trade agreement with the crown, it committed treason when it built ships not for trade as it was told to do, but for war. It committed treason when it declared Balon Greyjoy King of the Iron Islands, it committed treason when it sent ships to attack Lannisport and Seagard. The Iron Islands committed treason when it dared to think of independence.” Silence, the King continued. “We are of a mind to put the entirety of the Iron Islands to the sword, but that would not achieve anything. No matter how disgusting we find what you have done, you are still our subjects and consequently, we shall spare you.” There was a deep sigh of relief. “However, those lords who actively sided with Balon Greyjoy shall be executed and their houses alongside them.” Eight lords were brought before the King, and he read their names out. “House Codd, House Drumm, House Goodbrother, House Farwynd, House Humble, House Ironmaker, House Volmark and House Wynch, you are all sentenced to die.” Ned watched as the soldiers plunged daggers or swords or whatever weapon they could find into the heads of the houses and their wives and their children- all of whom were sons and adults- he watched as they all fell and the King gave the command for them to be removed from the hall and burned. The King turned his attention back to the hall. “You have seen what happens should you become willing accomplices to treason. I am willing to pardon you all now, for your oaths of loyal and hostages given to my keeping.” The remaining lords bent the knee and arrangements were made for their heirs to travel to the mainland. Ned observed all of this, not saying anything. He approved of what Jaime was doing, but he could not get the image of those children out of his head. The King spoke once more. “Balon Greyjoy.” The man was thrown before the foot of the throne, and the King stared at him. Greyjoy glared back. “You have lost four three brothers and your two oldest sons to this war you started, and you murdered your own wife and youngest son and daughter. What did you hope to gain by rebelling against the throne?”

Greyjoy said nothing for a long time, he merely stared at the King, his face expressionless, then his words came. “Freedom. I wanted freedom. For nearly three hundred years, my people have been enslaved to the throne to the mainland. We have been torn apart by the fact that we cannot do what we are good at. We are raiders and reapers, we do not sow seeds, we do not grow food, we make our living by raiding and raping. The throne took that away from us, and so we went to Essos, but there is nothing there in Essos that we cannot get in Westeros. And so we took to Westeros once more. The Iron Islands has always been separate from the rest of the Kingdom, we do not believe in your laws, or your ideals, we have our own way of life. And I meant to bring that back. I did not care what it cost.”

“The very thing you insult, is the thing that allowed the islands to remain as they are. You could have tried to develop throughout the past two hundred and eighty-four years, but you did not. You remained complacent and now when a hand is extended to you, inviting you to develop with the rest of the kingdom, you refused and you dare to blame your stagnation on the throne. You have no sense.” The King thundered. Greyjoy actually quailed back at that, and the King continued. “You murdered your own wife and son and daughter, why?”

Greyjoy spat at the King and was cuffed for it. then he spoke. “They wanted me to bend the knee. They wanted me to surrender before you. I would never do such a thing, and I would not tolerate such nonsense from my family. So, I killed them.”

The King stood up, walked down the steps, and stood before the King, he drew Blackfyre and said. “Then prepare to meet your brothers in the Seven Hells.” The sword was plunged into Greyjoy, then pulled out. Leaving a deep and gaping wound in him. As the man fell, the King stated. “Let it be known that the House of Greyjoy is dead, the Iron Islands belongs to the throne directly now. And shall do so forevermore.” Greyjoy thudded to the floor, the King looked at the body and said. “Take that man and give him to the fire. He shall not meet the drowned god.”


	64. Grown Up: Jaime XV

****

The Ironborn rebellion had been short lived, forward thinking and planning had seen to that. House Greyjoy and their most loyal vassals had been slain and put to the sword. And though Jaime knew he would never get the image of that little boy and girl out of his head, he knew that it was for the better that the Greyjoys not rule the Islands. They had brought nothing but pain and suffering for many people since taking over all those years ago. This would be a relief for many, not only on the mainland but in the Islands itself. Consequently, Jaime found he could muster no sadness as great keep at Pyke where the Greyjoys had resided for some time, was torn down and reduced to rubble, the stores were sacked and food taken and distributed out amongst the hungry populace, and the gold taken for the crown’s treasury. All in all the war had been a decent expedition, but he was glad it was over now.

The journey from Pyke back to the mainland had been a cheerful one, a lot of people had sung and danced and drank to celebrate victory over a much hated enemy. Jaime had joined in, as he had felt relief. Relief that the war was done and he could now go home to his wife and children. Dany had written to say that she had given birth to a baby boy who she had named Daeron, in honour of the Young Dragon and her direct ancestor, a strong name and one he was proud of. His wife had waited for him at Lannisport during the war, and now they were together again, for the great tourney he had declared would happen in celebration of the end of the war. Mother had planned everything, as she always did, with great efficiency and precision and no matter where he looked, he saw her detailed hand there, it filled him with pride.

The lords and ladies of the realm had all flocked to Lannisport for this tourney, winter was finally starting to break, and Jaime knew now was the perfect time for this event. He stood atop the podium, his crown atop his head, dressed in red and gold, with a blue cloak wrapped around his shoulders, and spoke. “My lords and ladies, thank you all for attending today. This tourney is being held, not as some vainglory for our own ego, but to celebrate the conclusion of a war against a foe that has given many people great difficulty over the years. It is to celebrate the end of winter, and success of the reforms that have been channelled throughout the kingdom. We are here to celebrate Westeros. I say that we enjoy the revelry and enjoy the growing seasons as they come. We are all young, or enjoying our youth, let us not forget that.” He clapped his hands together and said. “Begin.” A great cheer sounded out across the grounds then as the herald announced the first contestants for the jousting, Ser Arthur Dayne, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard against Ser Jorah Mormont, a man Jaime had knighted himself, after his feats in the storming of Pyke.

Jaime watched with rapt attention as Ser Arthur and Ser Jorah prepared themselves for the joust. Both men took their lances, their horses were prepared and ready, the herald looked at Jaime, and he nodded. “Begin!” Was the cry, Ser Arthur spurred his horse on first, as Jaime suspected he would, Ser Jorah followed. They came thundering down the lanes at one another, their lances raised, there was a crunch as their lances met and shattered. Their horses rode on passed one another. Both men turned, took another lance, and then prepared to do the same thing all over again. Jaime watched fascinated as Ser Arthur kept his lance lower than Ser Jorah did, Ser Arthur’s lance was perhaps at rib level whilst, Ser Jorah’s lance was at shoulder level, though Jaime had seen Ser Jorah joust before and had never seen him do that. Perhaps he was nervous, or perhaps he desperately wanted to win. The horses charged down at one another, the lances met, and shattered again. The horses turned around, lances were taken, and horses charged down, or rather thundered down. On the third time, Ser Arthur raised his lance at the last moment and knocked Ser Jorah in the stomach, with what appeared to be such force that Ser Jorah moved almost completely to one side, but managed to remain a horse. The crowd gasped at that, the man remained, turned his horse around and charged back, on the fourth pass, it seemed as though Ser Jorah had finally overcome his nerves, he moved quickly his lance darting lower and lower, until it hit Ser Arthur squarely in the chest, at the point that would knock a man off his horse. Ser Arthur managed to hold on for a time, but as his horse turned around, he slumped down and fell. The crowd looked to Jaime to see how he would react, and he clapped, making the crowd cheer. Ser Jorah stopped next to Ser Arthur and extended his hand, Ser Arthur clasped it and got up.

The herald stepped forward as Ser Jorah and Ser Arthur got off the lane. “Ser Jefforey Mallister and Lord Jon Connington.” This would be interesting Connington had much to prove and had always been a good tourney knight, whilst Mallister had a fierce prowess with a sword and a lance, as he had shown during the storming of Old Wyk. The two men bowed before the throne and then saddled up. Jaime nodded, the herald cried for them to begin and the charge started. On the first pass both men’s lances missed their mark, soaring harmlessly over the other, on the second, the lances shattered, on the third, the lances shattered, on the fourth, Connington nearly fell, on the fifth Mallister did fall. Jaime clapped with the others though he was slightly disappointed, he did not really like Connington. At his side Dany laughed. “What?” He asked looking at his wife, though she had given birth some four weeks ago, she did not seem to be feeling the effects of it.

“You really don’t like Connington, it shows on your face, every time you see him.” Dany replied.

Alarmed, Jaime turned to face his wife and asked. “Does it show so clearly?” He knew that such an open display of emotion, especially a negative one was like to have negative consequences for everything that would come to be their dealing with Connington, and that was something they could not afford, regardless of his own personal feelings of the man.

Dany touched his cheek and whispered. “No, not to anyone but me. And it shows to me, because I know you Jaime.”

Jaime smiled, and took his wife’s gloved hand in his own and said. “I know. But still, can you blame me? If Connington spent as much time actually ruling as he does complaining about some minor detail or the other, the crown would not need to spend so much time increasing its patrols throughout the Stormlands. I understand that he loved your brother, but I am not sure that this grief is doing him or us any favours.”

“And I understand that, my love, truly I do. But I think that Connington is a part of the old regime that can actually do some good. He has helped implement the reforms despite his own protests, and despite his own grief, he has still done much to help us in the Stormlands. I think we must just give him some time. Some time to heal and be free.” Dany replied.

Jaime nodded, kept his wife’s hand clasped in his as he turned to watch the rest of the jousting. There were some interesting fellows about, a man with as true an aim as he had ever seen who knocked off every opponent he came across, including Ser Boremund Rivers of the Kingsguard. There was a man who looked as though the lance was far too heavy for him yet he managed to knock off just about everyone as well. In the final four, Connington and Mormont broke some thirty lances against one another before Connington was knocked off his horse. Lord Mallister who had also enlisted in the tourney broke some forty lances against uncle Tygett before he finally won. The final round was a heated one, it seemed that Mormont was on a mission. Who had caught his eye he did not know, but whoever they were, they clearly inspired some devotion in him, for he kept going through numerous blows, he refused to fall when falling perhaps might have been the wise course.

Forty-one lances were broken before the joust ended, with Lord Mallister lying on his back, and Ser Jorah the champion. Jaime applauded, stood and said. “My lords and ladies, people of Westeros, I present to you, our champion, the Knight of the Lion, Ser Jorah Mormont.” He clapped and the realm clapped with him, Ser Jorah circled around the arena a little, before coming back to take the wreath for a floral crown from Jaime. The man rode for some time and then placed the crown atop Lady Alysanne Hightower, a raven-haired beauty. Jaime was slightly surprised at this, but from the way Lady Alysanne smiled it seemed that she was not. Jaime smiled and whispered to Dany. “I think we might be having a marriage on our hands soon enough.” Dany said nothing, but soon enough the crowd settled down as the lanes were removed and tidied up in preparation for the melee that came after. The melee demonstrated some of the much rawer efforts of the Westerosi knights and lords, even some of the ladies, as the women of Bear Island took part in the fighting. Lady Maege Mormont a big burly woman swinging a mace knocked out three men, including Jon Connington, before losing the final bout to Ser Oswell Whent. It was an interesting time and one that Jaime enjoyed thoroughly, once the melee ended, they retired to the greater grounds for the feasting.

Before the meal began, Jaime stood up and spoke. “My lords and Ladies, we have enjoyed much throughout the past day. Feats of strength, feats of endurance and now, we bring to you, the ultimate test, how much can you reasonably eat, before you need a break.” There was a rumble of laughter at that, Jaime grinned. “I would like to thank Lord Lannister for hosting us here, for providing the means for such a great feast and tourney.” Tyrion blushed happily and smiled. “Now, enough talking, let us eat and celebrate.” A cheer went out at that, the food was put before them and they ate merrily.

Somewhere during the first course, Mother was sat next to him and she spoke. “I am proud of you, Jaime, of what you have done to make the realm a better place, of how you are as a father and a husband. I know your father would be proud of you as well.”

Jaime smiled. “Thank you, Mother. I know he’d be proud of us all.” His mother smiled, and Jaime found himself asking. “How are you doing, Mother? As regent for Tyrion and generally?”

His mother did not reply immediately, she took some time, evidently considering various things, but when she did reply, there was a hint of tiredness in her voice. “I am doing okay, sweetling. I am living my life as best as I can, I do miss your father, and you and Cersei, but Tyrion is a joy to be around. He truly is quite smart. As for the regency it has its good days and its bad days as does everything in life.”

Jaime nodded, and as the first course was removed from in front of them, his mother got up and moved back to where Tyrion sat, holding court with some of the squires, talking animatedly about something or the other. Jaime watched the entire room, seeing men and women drink, laugh and joke, they were smiling, that was good. It showed things were good, the image of Balon Greyjoy in Pyke would not leave, but perhaps the memory would be less pressing in time. He felt his wife’s hand on his arm, and looked at her and smiled. “I love you.” He said. “I don’t say it enough.”

Dany smiled, and his heart soared, like it always did. “I love you too.”

The second course was put before them, a steaming beef stew, that tasted lovely. As Jaime ate, he wondered how exactly the Iron Islands would progress under direct rule of the throne. He had told Dany his decision and she had agreed with him, the Islands were too troublesome to be placed under any control but royal control. However, neither of them had quite managed to figure out what changes to implement there just now. They would give it some time, and then make their choice, with the right information before them to make an informed choice. He looked to his left and saw that Ser Jorah was talking animatedly with Lady Alysanne. “Do you think they will marry then?” He asked his wife, nodding to the two.

“I think so, I think that Lady Alysanne has taken a shine to the great northern bear. I do not think she much cares that he is Lord of House that does not have the riches she is used to, but I think that they will work together on that. I think Lord Jorah might well wish for the marriage to gain access to the Dowry that Lord Leyton would provide.” Dany said, as succinctly as she always did.

Jaime thought over this for a moment, thinking of what Ned had told him of Bear Island. It was a small isle, sometimes ravaged by Ironborn and Wildlings, more inhabited by bears than actual people. There was a lot of lumber there, but apart from that there was not much else for it sell to others. Consequently, the people were hard, and not exactly impoverished, but not as rich as say the Glovers had become from their access to the coastal west. It would make sense for a marriage into a family like the Hightowers then, for Lord Leyton was a very rich man, and with the tax imposed on the citadel, his wealth was only growing more with every passing day. The thought on the citadel brought another matter to Jaime’s attention. “On the matter of the citadel, do you think we should ask them to move into the Remembrance building on Rhaenys Hill?”

His wife nodded. “I think that would make sense. After all, the Citadel is in dire need of repair, and the Remembrance building is right there, we can keep an eye on them and ensure that they are not doing anything completely nonsensical.”

“I shall speak with Lord Leyton before we return to King’s Landing to make sure the arrangements are all made and that the conclave know all about it.” Jaime said, his wife smiled and they resumed eating. The second course continued for some time, and people came and went, Uncle Tygett came and sat next to him and one point. His uncle seemed to have mellowed slightly since his own marriage and the birth of his son. He seemed less angry, and more willing to listen and discuss than merely shout.

“I think that this has been a splendid event so far, Your Majesties. A most worthy event, for a victory so very hard earned.” Uncle said.

“Thank you, Uncle, you are most kind.” Jaime replied. “How is Lady Darlessa fairing? I hear she took to the birthing bed some two days ago?”

Uncle Tygett’s face shifted and changed slightly, but then a smile took hold. “She and the babe are well. A little girl, we’ve decided to name Daenerys in honour of Your Majesty.” Dany blinked and then smiled. Uncle Tygett looked around the room and sighed. “I think these sort of things should not need to happen to bring everyone together.”

“In what sense, Ser?” Dany asked.

“I think that the more time that the lords of the realm spend together, the more time they will have to get to know one another and remove any prejudices and fears they have as a result of the others being unknown. Look before you.” Uncle Tygett stated, gesturing with his hand. “See how well they talk to one another, the reforms you have implemented have started the process of them all thinking of themselves not as Westermen, or Rivermen, or Reachmen, but as Westerosi. That is a powerful thing. It is something that can be built on and given proper prominence. I believe that the Red Keep would need some work done on it, but it could be done.”

“You would suggest having the nobles of the realm, stationed in one place?” Jaime asked somewhere between intrigued and horrified.

“I think that it is something to consider.” Uncle Tygett said, as the second course was removed and the third course was put before them. Throughout the rest of the meal, Jaime thought about that. It could be something; it could be incredibly intriguing to see how the nobles reacted to all being in the same place for longer than a few days or months. However, that would be for a later time, for now they would need to continue to heal the kingdom.

The feast ended, and the next day, Jaime, Dany and their two sons and the court made its way back to King’s Landing, throughout it all Jaime found himself pondering again, what his uncle had said. He liked the thought, but he would not pursue it now. There was still much work to get done. They arrived in King’s Landing some three weeks later, and at the first meeting of court, Jaime decided to bring Dany as well as their two sons with him. They wore their crowns, dressed in red and gold, the banners of House Luciferus flying proudly before them. The herald announced them. “Their Royal Majesties, King and Queen Jaime and Daenerys Luciferus, and their sons Their Royal Highnesses Princes Loren and Daeron Luciferus.” The doors opened and they walked in, Loren holding Jaime’s hand and Daeron in Dany’s arms, the lords and ladies all bowed before them, their heads lowered, the Kingsguard walked behind them as they made their way to the throne. As always the seat of the throne was bigger than he remembered it being. Widened after the war, to seat both of them. Dany sat down first, then Jaime, Loren rested in his lap. The lords and ladies remained bowed, Jaime surveyed them, he looked at his wife, saw the smile on her face, and smiled in return. He turned to look at the assembled court and said. “Begin.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is it, the end. Thank you to everyone who has reviewed, liked and left kudos on this story. Thanks for sticking with me through the ups and downs of the story, especially as originally this was going to be a one shot. Thanks once again, see you sometime.


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